


without you I don't know

by Phrose



Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff, I can't write sex so there is none, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, It's spy shit mom you wouldnt understand, M/M, Manipulation, Modern AU, Rated For Violence, References to Torture, They got their garden thank god, curt mega is a loveable dumbass, domestic spies, like shit got dark without me realising
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2020-11-28 04:44:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 27,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20960687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phrose/pseuds/Phrose
Summary: Curt makes good on his promises. He finally finds a home. He is content.Owen escapes his demons. He heals. He builds a family. He is happy.Curt isn't happy with just content.title is from Without You I Don't Know - Jim and the Povolos





	1. Losing something so sincere

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! Your local angst-only writer here to serve some more up. I haven't entirely decided on the direction I want this to go, but I hope you all enjoy nonetheless! Thank you as well for the support on my last fic, it means the world.
> 
> \-----
> 
> "The difference was that now, Curt was always there when he woke up."

It took a long time before either of them felt normal in their small home in Atlanta. The time didn’t pass in days, minutes, or seconds, it passed in jolts every time Owen flinched when there was a knock at the door, and every time Curt wandered the living room, gun drawn after being woken up by a sudden noise in the middle of the night. Time used to pass quickly, in this way. It was the hard times that made them appreciate nights like this. Curled in each other's arms as they watched the sun set over the seemingly endless horizon. The sun melted into hues of purple, red, and blue as stars replaced the clouds. Streetlamps blocked some of them out, as it tends to be with light pollution in the city, but every once in a while, Owen would grab Curt’s hand and point to the north star. The brightest in the sky. It was nights like those that would remind them that they were free, safe, and most importantly, together. Curt had always promised Owen a home with a garden. He had wanted daffodils, Owen had wanted lavender. Their home was surrounded by colour and joy. It’s what they’d always dreamed about.

On this particular night, Owen had fallen asleep in his lover’s arms. He slept soundly, which was nothing short of a miracle. While his nightmares had been getting less frequent the longer he was out of the field, the things he did still haunted him. 

The difference was that now, Curt was always there when he woke up. 

Curt ran his fingers through Owen’s hair, it was getting longer as time passed, but he liked it. As he looked down he was reminded why he fell in love with Owen. In the field, he was practical, always the smarter of the two. He thought quick on his feet and never let Curt fall too far behind. They were a well-oiled machine. Two of the greatest spies to ever live. It had been exciting, but Curt was content, just sitting here with the man who would tend to his wounds, back him up with Cynthia, and quite literally kill for him, asleep on his lap. He was content, wasn’t he? He had left by choice after all. He got a job doing paperwork and remote intel for the A.S.S. He was by no means out of work. He had lots to preoccupy himself with. He was content, but he wasn’t truly living. He looked down at Owen and suddenly felt his weight pressing into his shoulder. He had always hated desk work, but that’s what he chose to do. He would do deskwork until the end of time if it meant keeping Owen safe, and as far away from the job as possible. Owen had taken up part-time work at the local theatre doing tech for small shows and even acting in one earlier this year. He was content, but Owen has truly happy. 

Curt carefully got up, put on his shoes, and ran. He wasn’t running  _ from _ anything, perse, he just needed to get away for a few minutes. He needed to ground himself. He was content. He knew Cynthia would let him back in the field. But he was content. He ran out of their small, suburban community, and onto the highway. He had promised Owen. They were better off now. Bright headlights zoomed past Curt in both directions. He felt alive. He knew what he had to do. 

When Owen woke up, Curt was gone.


	2. Pretend that there is anyone to blame/

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Curt returns from his run. 
> 
> Owen is not happy.

The porch was freezing at this time of night. Owen shook the sleep from his body and jolted once he realized Curt was no longer there, providing much-needed body heat. He rushed inside, hoping to find Curt asleep in their bed, but when he opened the door to the bed still neatly made and undisturbed from morning, he began to worry. 

“Curt?” he called out, the room echoed around him as he looked for any sign of his partner. That’s when he noticed his running shoes missing from the entryway. A quick glance at the oven clock told him it was 1:25 in the morning. Owen sighed before pulling out his phone to call Curt. He just wanted to know he was safe. He was running a lot recently, but at this hour? That was new. Owen listened in on the other line before he noticed a jaunty melody playing in the kitchen. He followed the sound and found Curt’s phone sitting on the kitchen counter. This was very unlike him. Owen wasn’t tired anymore.

When Curt finally got back home, he looked at his watch as he slowed his run to a walk. Shit. 2:11 am. He hoped to god Owen was still asleep on the porch. He snuck back in through the front door as quietly as he could and was greeted by the sight of Owen leaning on the kitchen counter, very much awake. 

“Hey, you’re up.”

“And you’re not dead.” Owen spat. “Why the hell would you think half-past one in the morning is an appropriate time for a run? I had no idea where you were!”

Curt sighed. “I’m sorry, I just needed to get out for a bit. You know how I get.”

“I was worried, Curt. The least you could have done was tell me where you were going.” Owen rubbed his eyes. Had he been crying? No, it was late, he was probably just exhausted. Curt hoped that if he told himself that with enough confidence, he might be able to convince himself it was the truth. “Just… bring your phone next time, at least.” Owen tossed Curt his phone, nearly sending it to the floor before Curt grabbed ahold of it. He looked down at it, noticing the half dozen missed calls from Owen’s number. When he looked back up, Owen was gone.


	3. You gave me hurt, I gave you pain.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dreams Curt and Owen once shared have come true, but desires change.

Curt hopped in the shower, not entirely to clean up, moreso to collect his thoughts and make a plan. He felt awful for worrying Owen, but he just felt… Trapped. Trapped wasn’t the right word, but it’s all he could muster now. Stagnant, useless, a waste. Those were better words to describe how he felt. It made no sense. They had worked so hard to get out, and all of a sudden, without warning, Curt found himself rehearsing his pitch to Cynthia. 

He loved Owen. He loved him more than life itself, but just because he couldn’t get back in the field didn’t mean Curt was out of it for good too. A spy is a spy after all. As far as Curt was concerned, he was still in his prime, and he had lots to give to his agency. He would talk to Owen in the morning after he called Cynthia. He didn’t need to know before it was all worked out.

Owen lied in their bed, mind reeling, his thoughts quickly getting away from him. Something was wrong, but he couldn’t figure out what. Some spy he was. Curt wasn’t the type to just take off like that. After they had moved and settled into their new life together, they had been attached at the hip. It meant the world to Owen. He had a harder time dealing with the things he’d done during his tenure with MI6, and Curt had made sure that he knew that he was safe and taken care of. He had always been so patient with him, calming him down at dreadful hours of the night, helping him get set up in a new career. Just a few hours ago, he was listening to Owen tell him the same story about the north star for what must have been the hundredth time. He had always been there. Why had that changed so fast? 

Owen was jostled out of his thoughts by Curt sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“I’m sorry. I should have woken you up and told you where I was going.”

“What’s wrong, love?” Owen turned to Curt, who set legs crossed on the bed, his hair still wet from the shower.

“Do you ever get restless here?”

“I used to. When we first moved in. You saw it, Curt.”

“That’s not what I mean.” Curt tapped an unsteady rhythm into his knees, turning to look Owen in the eyes. He didn’t mean to bring it up. He had hoped an apology would be enough, but he also felt bad springing the news on Owen with no warning signs. This was a start. “I mean, like, do you ever miss it? The action? Just us against the world?”

“No. Not for a second. When we were in the throws of it we would always talk about what we have now like it was impossible. This is the only thing that kept me alive through our missions. When every part of me wanted to give up I would think about our garden, us being a somewhat normal family, building a home with you. I knew how hard I was willing to fight to make it real. I honestly never thought we’d get here, but now that we are I wouldn’t give it up for all the glory in the world.”

Curt leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on Owen’s forehead. 

“I love you.”

“To the moon and back,” Owen whispered.

Curt crawled into bed and held his partner like it was the last chance he’d ever have. Tomorrow, he had a tough call to make.


	4. When you leave, I'll stay behind.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Curt gets approval for a mission.
> 
> Owen battles with the thought that his world may just crumble.

“Thank you, Cynthia.” Curt tried to keep a professional tone, but holy hell did the thought of a mission excite him.

“Don’t thank me yet, Mega. It’s one mission. Don’t think I won’t have your ass if it’s not perfect.” Cynthia said plainly. Curt couldn’t have cared less that it was just one mission. If he did this to perfection, he could be looking at regular jobs again. “Will Owen be wanting to join you on this one, Agent?”

“He hasn’t been cleared yet, actually. I don’t think he wants to be.”

“That’s a shame. He’s always been a hell of a shot, at least compared to you.” Curt winced slightly at that. She was right, it would be different without Owen. He was always the smart one, but he had already said yes. If Curt backed out now he’d be stuck doing deskwork for life. Not that a life with Owen wasn’t enough, he just needed one mission.

“Cynthia? Would you mind sending the mission package in a letter envelope, address it to Dale Greene.”

“Owen doesn’t know, does he?” 

It seemed that Curt’s silence spoke for him, as he heard Cynthia take a drag from her cigarette and sigh before speaking once more.

“Agent, as much as I am desperate to get rid of this case, I like Owen a hell of a lot more than you. He is not going to be happy with you.”

“That’s probably the understatement of the century. Cynthia, you know me. All my paperwork is a mess. I can’t just sit here and fill out forms when I could be saving people. I’ll tell Owen, I just need the confirmation from you.”

Cynthia groaned into the receiver, making curt jump at the volume of the sudden noise. 

“Mega, you are so fucking lucky that I am desperate. I’ll have the case file to you by 10 tomorrow. Don’t screw this up.”

“You have my word, Director Houston.” Cynthia hung up, and Curt took a few seconds to celebrate, turning back to the house only to find Owen standing at the back door, hurt in his eyes. Curt’s stomach nearly jumped out of his throat.

“Owen…”

“Don’t. Just- don’t bother, Curt.”

The silence was deafening. Curt willed himself to speak, but nothing came out.

“Were you ever going to tell me, or was I just supposed to wake up one day without you here?” Owen’s accent thickened as he tried to maintain his composure. Anger wouldn’t help him right now, despite how truly furious he was.

“It’s one mission, there and back in less than a week. I promise.”

“You should know better than to make promises. We’ve used up our luck in that department already.” Owen moved to sit on their porch swing. He looked out on the garden. Their little miracle. Their home. “What brought this on? Is this not enough?”

“I have more to give Owen. If I can give it, it’s my duty.”

“I thought once we got here we’d be free from that. You promised.” 

Curt sat beside Owen and watched as a monarch butterfly landed on their lavender. Just as they hoped.

“I just need to show myself I can live without it. One mission.”

Owen ran a shaking hand through his hair. Deep down, he knew this had been coming since last night. Well, He knew something had been coming. He had just hoped it had been anything else. He knew why Curt wanted this, but it still absolutely gutted him. He sighed to himself. If this went wrong, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself, but he also knew that if he didn’t let this happen now, one day he’d wake up and Curt would be gone for good.

“If you die, I’ll never forgive you. You have to put yourself before the mission, okay?”

A smile crept on Curt’s face as he grabbed Owen's hand. 

“Is that a yes?”

“Not a happy one. But yes. Go. Save the world.” Curt pulled him into a strong embrace, which Owen returned. The feeling was wrong, with Curt so happy and Owen finding nothing but pain in his heart.  _ One mission _ , he reminded himself.  _ One mission and you can move on and never look back. _

When it came time for Curt to leave for Belgium, Owen stood on their front lawn as the unmarked A.S.S. vehicle peeled off down the road. Once it was out of sight, he cursed to himself and did his best to busy himself. He did all he could to quell the overwhelming anger and worry coursing through his veins. He watered their garden, and as the sun set over the seemingly endless horizon, he sat on heir porch and looked for the north star. The star that would lead Curt back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if this chapter seemed rushed, I'm planning on looking it back over tomorrow, but as always thank you for your support and for reading this, I hope you enjoyed!


	5. Carry Me Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Curt blows it.
> 
> Owen hopes it means he'll have him home.

The lights were dim and the air smelled stiff. Curt typically wouldn’t find himself hiding out in this shitty of a bar, but it was a shitty day and it called for the proper scenery. He waved down the bartender and ordered another bourbon, but without his parter’s fluent german, it was much harder than it needed to be. Owen was probably worried sick by now, it had been hours since they had gotten back from their mission. His job was simple, redirect the German prime minister, slow him down enough to give Curt time to bug his office, get out. Easy. it should have been so easy. he had barely made it out alive, and a civilian hadn’t. Curt mistook a lost woman for a threat, and while he would usually have Owen smoothly talk their way out of it, Owen wasn’t there and Curt got paranoid. He fired a round straight into her chest right as security rounded the corner. Curt could brush off the security guards as a risk, but that young woman would keep him up at night. He had taken three lives that night. He finished his drink and ordered another. At least he was getting the hang of that.

He pulled out his wallet, and traced his fingers around the edges of a photograph he kept in the pocket. It was of him and Owen, the first day they had moved to Atlanta. Owen was holding a bag of seeds and sprouts. He looked so happy. Curt’s mind brought him back to the view of Owen in the rearview mirror. He had never seen him look so hurt. This was selfish, wasn’t it? 

Curt jammed the photograph back into his wallet and made the agonizing walk back to his motel room to brief Cynthia on his failure.

Owen woke up screaming. 

As he shot up in bed, he wrestled with their duvet, attempting to free himself from binds that only existed in his memory. He scrambled, reaching for Curt. When his hand reached the empty side of the bed, it hit him again that he was gone. The next thing he touched, however, was a crystal picture frame. Owen brought it to his chest and tried to steady his breathing. Once he had calmed down enough to form a coherent thought, he traced his fingers along the edges of the frame. In it, was a photograph of him and Curt, the first day they moved to Atlanta. He remembered itching to start work on the garden, but before he knew it Curt was hugging him and telling him to smile.  _ To a new start _ . 

Owen dragged his heavy limbs out of his cold, empty bed and into the shower. He just needed to think. As the scalding water ran over him, he thought about Curt. He hoped he was okay, but some sick part of him was praying that he would fail. That he would be sent home to him for good. He wanted the best for Curt, of course, but right now he just needed his lover’s warm embrace. He needed him here, not in another continent. Five more days, that’s all.

Owen couldn’t go back to bed, so he sat on the porch and waited. He wasn’t sure for what. Perhaps the sunrise, to start a new day, or perhaps he waited for this house to feel like home again. Whichever came first was alright with him.

Cynthia had not been happy with Curt, but as if by a miracle, she gave him a second chance. He was to leave Berlin tomorrow and head to Brussels in order to stop an arms deal that could spread weaponry across the country. Cynthia had made it clear that there wouldn’t be a third strike. He had three weeks and was being assigned another A.S.S agent to work alongside. Three weeks to prove himself. Then he could go home.

Curt sat on the balcony of his motel room and looked for the north star. It was the only one that he remembered stories about. Owen would be glad to hear that. He dialled the number, and prayed that it went to voicemail. He had some news to break.


	6. Don't turn away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation neither want to have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALRIGHTY so okay. My plan for this fic has officially gone rogue. I appreciate you all for sticking with me and my writings that happen exclusively at 1am, and I promise things will eventually get better for our boys, it's just a matter of making them work for it it seems. I hope you all enjoy this short chapter, and as always thank you so much for reading, it means the world.

Owen took a long draw from his cigarette as the sun rose over the vast horizon. He felt at peace, for the first time since Curt left. He hadn’t been able to go back to sleep, but the tired state he was in filled his mind with a pleasant haze, and he almost felt normal. 

That is until he heard his phone ring in the other room. Snapping out of his daze, he ashed his cigarette and headed inside. It was an unknown number, but at 5am it could really only be one person.

“Curt?”

“Hey, Owen.” Curt’s voice was muddled through the call, but Owen could swear his voice just broke.

“What’s wrong? Is everything alright?”

“Woah woah, yes, everything’s fine, I just have some news.” Curt chuckled, half-heartedly.

“Yes, love?” Owen breathed out relieved. 

“So, there’s been a change of plans.”

Owen sat on the porch swing as Curt recounted the details of his failed mission. Owen bit his lip to keep himself from crying. He almost died, exactly as he had feared. He was going to pipe up, either with concern or a much deserved I told you so when the walls began to crumble around him. 

“I have three weeks to do this, but chances are two of those will be planning and assurance.” Curt heard Owen choke on the other line, but kept talking anyways. “I know we said a week, but it moved too fast and Cynthia gave me another chance.” the silence on the other line was unnerving. “I need to do this, for us.”

“For us? Really, Curt?”

“Yes, really. Look, Owen, I kept my promise, and I just need to do this to prove to myself I’ve earned it. I need to earn it.”

“Love, you’ve earned all the best in the world with all you’ve done.” As much as Curt tried to ignore it, he could hear Owen cry. “You’re a hero. You’re  _ my _ hero.”

“I love you, and I promise I’ll come home. I wouldn’t give you up for the world.”

“The longer you’re away the harder that gets to believe, Curt.”

“I know. I’m sorry, just, please. Wait for me, and keep my daffodils alive. Look after yourself, okay?”

“Okay. If you’re not home in exactly three weeks, I’m marching to New York and I’ll have Cynthia’s head.” That made Curt laugh, despite knowing that Owen was entirely serious.

“Hell hath no fury like a lover scorned. I have to go, my plane leaves in a few hours and I should sleep. I love you, and I’ll see you soon.”

“You will. Be safe, love.” 

And with a click, the line went dead. 

Curt packed his things and went over the case file.

Owen sat on the porch swing, feeling shock, terror, and rage course through his veins all at once.

Curt was ready to do anything to get this right.

Owen was ready to do anything to get Curt home.


	7. to get by on my own

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's always a bump in the road.

Owen was restless. There was no other way to put it. Five days and one week after Curt had left for what was supposed to be his last mission, Owen continually worried that he may never come home for good. That there would always be something to prove. He knew Curt, and he knew that as long as people needed saving Curt would do his best to be the one to do it. He couldn’t blame him, really. He had wanted the same thing once, but that was a long time ago. He couldn’t forget it no matter how badly he wanted to. It manifested in the scenes that unfolded every time he tried to sleep. Without Curt there, it was getting harder to cope. The darkness always arose when he was alone, and he had been alone a lot recently. While he still filled his time supporting the community theatre, Owen hated coming home to an empty house. His voice echoed off the walls, coming right back to suffocate him. He opted not to speak. 

Curt was restless. His new partner was new to the force, and reminded Curt of himself. Unfortunately, he was arrogant. He took too many risks. He couldn’t always grasp the severity of a situation. It was all just a chance to be a hero. While he liked to think he’s grown since Owen’s “retirement” it was certainly unnerving to not have the balance he had with his longtime partner. Owen was collected, analytical, smart. He was the one who made sure they made it out. He would have called him paranoid before he really knew him, but now he knows that probably would have prevented a lot of pain for Owen. Paranoia could have kept him safe. He shook the thought from his head as he reviewed the briefing. A high profile arms deal in brussels. They could stop unimaginable volumes of weaponry from reaching the ever rising underground militia in Brussels. He reread the document. His breath caught in his throat when the one detail he had kept from Owen began to glare back at him. The organization in charge of this silent rise. The organization that had almost taken Owen from him. He was going face to face once again with the one group he hadn’t been able to stop. Chimera.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is so short, the next one is quite a bit longer, so buckle up!


	8. The past is utterly inescapable.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owen's past comes back to haunt him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! so this chapter is insanely dark, and deals with manipulation and implied torture. If that is a trigger, please avoid this part. It will all be summarized in future chapters and above all else, stay safe.
> 
> Thank you for your support and thank you for sticking with me!
> 
> The title is from "Committed" by jim and the povolos

_ The clanking of metal chains rang loud in Owen’s ears. He struggled against them, but he was too weak. There wasn’t much fight left in him. These people had, quite literally, bled him dry. His vision spun, and the face in front of him refused to come into focus. He shook his head, urging his eyes to see. The room slowly came into focus, and Owen knew he recognized it, but couldn’t place from where. A gruff voice shocked him out of his confusion. _

_ “Good morning, agent. I see you’ve finally decided to join us?” The harsh American voice teased him, and he winced at the sound. “It’s an honour to finally meet you. I see you’re getting accustomed to our new, what shall we call it, office space?” _

_ This didn’t make any sense. Owen knew he recognized the room, he had been here before. Why were they saying it was new? _

_ “We’re still getting things sorted, but I suppose you’re more concerned with what we want with you, huh?” _

_ As the face finally came into focus, it was a man Owen knew. One of Curt’s old coworkers, they had been on a mission together in Russia back in 56’. He knew this man. Owen’s mind reeled, his confusion only strengthening as he analyzed the misplaced introduction.  _

_ “I know you.” Owen’s voice was no more than a whisper, and he cursed the unuse for rendering him nearly silent. “St Petersburg. You’re with the A.S.S.” _

_ “Pardon? You must be mistaken. I’m not working for the Americans. That brings us to our mission here, agent. Now I’m sure you’re familiar with my associates here, correct?” _

_ Owen nodded as he looked to the men on either side of the room. He wouldn’t say he knew them, but he could probably tell you their glove size by the imprints left on his face.  _

_ “We are a part of a little start-up. Scientists finishing what the A.S.S couldn’t. We have some tests we’d like to run, but before we go any further, I should introduce myself.” The man extended a gloved hand, expecting Owen to shake it despite the chains and leather currently securing him to his seat. The room fell silent as the hand lingered in front of Owen. _

_ “I know you, Alexander. We’ve been acquainted.” Owen’s head swam as he felt his blood turn ice cold. He knew this man. He knew the room around him. He had been here for days. Why were they acting like it was the first time? He had wounds to prove it, but here they were exchanging pleasantries.  _

_ “I’m sorry, agent. You must be mistaken, I can assure you I am not this Alexander you believe me to be.” The gloved hand left Owen’s vision, and the leather creaked as it came to rest at the man’s side. “It’s been a long journey, I’m sure, and I truly apologize for any confusion. In our circumstances, however, my name is trivial. You just need to know who we are. This little organization we run aims to revolutionize espionage, and you have been volunteered by your agency as a top candidate for our experiments. You could call us your boss. You could also call us Chimera.” _

Owen gasped for air as he frantically reached out to support himself. He was okay. He was home. He was free. 

He hit the wall with a thud as he rubbed at his wrists as if ensuring he wasn’t bound anymore. 

He stumbled into their bedroom, and despite the dizziness overwhelming him, he brought himself to the closet and he dug through piles of clothes before finding what he desperately needed. 

His knees ached at the drop as he began to dig through the box, emptying the majority of its contents onto the floor. His hands shook as he pulled out a plain notebook, thickened by use. 

He flung himself back, colliding with the bed. He opened the notebook and willed the room to stop spinning. 

When he finally was able to make out the scattered words before him, he read them out loud to himself as if reciting a prayer. 

“It was human experimentation.”

“The plan had been abandoned by the Americans.”

“Chimera took over.”

“The man  _ was _ Alexander Cobb. You did know the room.”

“They succeeded.”

The moment the last sentence left his lips, he threw the book against the drywall, placed his head in his hands and repeated the phrase. 

“They succeeded.”

Curt had written the notebook for him a short while after his rescue from the organization. It was meant to help him realize that all they fed him was lies. It helped, for a while. Now the notebook only served to remind him he had broken. 

They said it was a rogue offshoot of project QKHILLTOP. A brainwashing experiment meant to break down the subject’s sense of self. The goal was to break them down to a blank slate and rebuild them as a perfect vessel to do your bidding. 

It was gaslighting on an industrial scale. And they had done it. Owen had been blinded to himself. When Curt had found him, he had no recollection of the years they had spent together. He was an enemy, not an ally. 

The months following had been a whirlwind of miracles, Owen was one of the easier rehabilitation cases, which surprised both MI6 and the A.S.S. 

Despite his relatively smooth recovery, Owen still had days like these. He sat for hours staring at his own hands, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he was still under their spell. The near-perfect life he had built had always seemed too good to be true. With Curt gone, maybe it was all a part of their game. Maybe he hadn’t been saved. 

Owen fell asleep, sitting against the foot of the bed, his fingernails carving marks into his palm. He didn’t dream. When he awoke in the morning, he wasn’t sure what he could trust anymore. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I started writing this at 9pm. it is now midnight. The QK programs run by the CIA are really interesting and I highly suggest y'all do some reading on it if it piques your interest.


	9. careful and careless.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Curt prepares for his mission, but his new partner has other plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always for reading! the next few chapters are going to move pretty fast, so as always I am super grateful for you all sticking with it. Your comments and kudos have given me more motivation than I could have imagined, so again thank you, and I hope you enjoy!

The sound of Curt’s alarm was far from a great wake up call. He groaned as his feet hit the floor. Whether he liked it or not, it was time to start the day. Despite their best efforts, information on the location of Chimera’s agents was sparse, and what they had was vague at best. Curt wanted nothing more than to be able to tell Owen. He needed to know what he would do. That’s what made him great after all, it was always the partnership. The words became meaningless as he read his briefing for what seemed like the thousandth time. He had a week to get his shit together. A week to finish the job. He eyed the phone on the desk, illuminated by the beginning of the sunrise and the flickering bulb in the lamp. He may not be able to ask Owen what he would do, but at least he could hear his voice. He felt awful, he hadn’t been calling as much as he should but they really didn’t have much to talk about anymore. Owen wasn’t authorized to hear about Curt’s mission, and Curt wasn’t able to get much out of Owen. He figured that was fair. He picked up the phone and dialled the number, only to be greeted by his own voice in his ear.

“Hey-o! If you’re hearing this, we’re unfortunately unable to take your call, but if it's important, I'm sure you know how to reach us. Anyways, leave a message and we’ll get back to you on the double!”

He tried the number again, and the same message repeated himself. Was Owen screening his calls? 

“Hey Owen, It’s me. It’s like 10 am back home, you're usually around. If you hear this please call me back. I just need to hear your voice. I hope you’re doing well.”

As he ended the call, something lingered inside of him. It wasn’t like Owen to be out this early, he usually stayed in and wrote until he had to go help with the theatre. Something was wrong.

He tried to push the nagging feeling down, packing his things and getting ready to do some good old fashioned espionage. They needed to locate Chimera’s headquarters, which given the information they had was shaping up to be an impossible task. Nevertheless, Curt phoned his partner and they were on their way. 

The streets of Brussels were crowded this time of year, locals and tourists alike packed into the city centre. While uncomfortable, it made it easy for the two spies to go undetected as they moved into the more residential areas of the city. The architecture was gorgeous, but they weren’t here to admire the overground, their mission was to go deeper. Soon, they approached a seemingly abandoned factory in quite a state of decay. Rust had overtaken the large chimneys, and the surrounding area screamed danger. The distant commotion was enough to get them to stick around. 

“Do you really think this is it, Mega?” Curt’s partner, agent Carter, spoke a little too loudly for the situation, earning him a glare and a knock on the shoulder from the more senior spy. “I just want to be sure. This is my chance to prove myself, start to move up, you know?”

“Listen, kid” Curt groaned. “This business isn’t all glory and girls, alright? This isn’t some Buchan novel. Our story isn’t going to make headlines. If you have any sense, which you haven’t proved to me yet, you’ll get out before you get addicted to the adrenaline.” Carter looked down, dejected. Curt continued the surveillance. 

Carter really did remind Curt of himself. He remembers his first year in the agency, the thrill of the chase. He did feel like a hero. The burden of the people he’d let die was a non-issue back then, he was in the green in that sense. That didn’t last long. It was almost like he woke up one day and had his body count staring back at him. The civilians, the other agents, hell, even the enemies weighed on him sometimes. The more he thought about it, the more he realized the reason why he was really doing this. It was never for the thrill or the glory. He needed to break even. Save more people than he’d hurt. Did that really matter if taking this on meant hurting the person he loved most? The numbers said yes, but the way he felt now challenged that. 

“Mega? They’re on the move.”

Curt snapped out of his thoughts just as commotion began to explode from the factory. There must have been twenty trucks, all heavily reinforced pulling past the gates from the opposite side of the building. As they moved around the edge of the fence, men in business attire began to emerge from the gates. Among them, one face stood out from the rest. Alexander Cobb. 

Before Curt had a chance to process the familiar man, Carter had his gun drawn and was on the move. Curt dashed to catch up, grabbing him by the collar and shoving him into the fence. 

“Have you lost your fucking mind, Carter?”

“Sir, they’re right there! We need to move now!’

“Like hell we do.” There was venom dripping from Curt’s tongue. “We have another week before we’re cleared to make contact, and even then I would like to make it out alive, so you either go with my plan or we abandon the mission, what will it be agent?” 

At that very moment, Carter landed a well-placed punch to Curt’s stomach, sending him to the concrete. As he caught his breath, he watched as the naive spy darted over the fence and entered the compound. Curt rose to his feet, and his blood ran cold. He had no choice but to follow. He wasn’t adding to his body count. Not today. 

Over the ringing in his ears, Curt heard his comm go off. He must have tripped his tracker. He turned it off, figuring that if he were breaking protocol today, he may as well commit. As he was greeted by the blaring fluorescent lights of the factory, he spotted Carter. 

It was now or never. His pulse raced as he overlooked the mass of weapons being loaded onto the factory floor. 

“So much for careful planning.”


	10. ready, set.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owen faces his worst nightmare.
> 
> Curt siezes his.

Owen woke up to the sound of his phone ringing in the living room, ‘woke up’ being a generous term after the hour and a half of sleep he managed. He trudged into the living room, waiting for the phone to go to voicemail. He hadn’t had the energy to answer calls recently. It was hard hearing Curt’s voice but not having him there. Guilt would eat him alive for that once Curt got home and he had to explain himself, but for now, it was easier this way. Owen began to brew a pot of coffee as his phone went off a second time. Slamming down the pot in frustration at the multiple calls, he noticed that the image illuminated on his phone wasn’t of Curt. Curiosity getting the better of him, he made his way over to the counter and cautiously answered, swiping the unknown number off the screen.

“Hello, Carvour speaking?”

“Owen. Took you long enough.” Owen’s stomach dropped through his feet as a familiar voice crackled in his ears. “There’s been a problem.”

\---

To say Curt was intimidated was an understatement. He was barely armed, unprepared, and frightened in a factory with some of the most evil individuals in the world. He was downright shitting himself. When he finally caught his breath, he caught his first true look at the enemy they were about to face. There were about 50 agents, 7 trucks, and more weapons than he could count. He needed a gameplan and he needed it fast. 

“Ok Carter, move along the left catwalk, go around back and take out the drivers in case they have another shipment. Let them gain distance and eliminate them. I’ll stay here and take care of the leader.” Curt eyed Alexander Cobb standing amongst the other agents. Every order he barked in German further strengthened Curt’s resolve. He would ideally do this with as little blood on his hands as possible, but if he had to get dirty to take Cobb down, he would. 

“Sir, you’re really going to help me?”

“If you die, Cynthia will rip my teeth out one by one. You’re the most incompetent agent I have ever met, but yeah. We’re a team now.” Carter smiled at the senior agent and took off to take care of the drivers. Curt’s gaze was locked as Cobb picked up a large rifle and held his place above all of Chimera. He was going to suffer. Curt was determined to be the one to make it so.

\---

Owen had to sit down. Cynthia’s voice burned his ears. She tried to be gentle but was failing miserably as her anger bled through the facade. All Owen could do was stare at the wall as she explained the situation.

“Mega’s tracker went offline at 0900 and Carter’s was just pinged inside the prospective Chimera base. We need to send backup. I thought you may want to take the call.”

“Cynthia, you know I’m not cleared. I can’t do anything.” Owen knew he was right, and for the first time since Curt left, the anger and fear faded to nothing. Curt was in danger. Chimera was back. He was here, alone, unable to help.

“I can provide one-time clearance for you to act as an operative on this mission. Daniels doesn’t need to know.”

“You don’t understand, Ms. Houston.”

“Director Houston. And you seem to forget that I was the head of the team that lead your rescue, Carvour. I know the history, but the A.S.S isn’t equipt with many agents experienced enough to take this on.” Cynthia sighed, voice softening once more. “I have faith that you know what the right call is here. I’ll send a car in three hours. If you get on, great, if not, then that’s your call, but you of all people know the danger Curt is in, facing Chimera unprepared. I have a team. I suggest you join them.” and with a click, the line went dead. 

Owen’s hands shook ferociously as he packed his bag. Curt hadn’t told him he would be facing Chimera again. Then again, he had been ignoring his calls. Was this his fault?

As he stepped into the vehicle, Owen looked at their home. Their garden was in full bloom, and the porch swing rocked gently in the summer wind. The four walls that kept him sane and safe entered the rearview mirror too quickly. The driver said nothing as Owen wrung his hands, unsure of what was about to go down. He wasn’t ready. He knew that well. 

Despite himself, Owen boarded the plane to Brussels. He tried to quiet his racing thoughts and still his shaking hands. He tried to focus on what was important. He had wished Curt home so many times, and he was going to go get him if it was the last thing he did. 


	11. are you the man you need to be?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Curt takes action against Chimera, and Owen is second-guessing his ability to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOH BOY WE GOT A LONG ONE. Thanks as always for your comments, kudos, and most of all your time. I never thought this would be read by anyone, let alone almost 200 people, so thank you, truly. I hope you stick around and enjoy the ride because it's about to get spicy.
> 
> TW for a very brief mention of implied suicidal thoughts, so be safe

The warehouse was clamouring with life as Curt tried to take inventory of the calibre of weaponry they were dealing with. Guns, knives, bombs, the usual kit and caboodle. Amongst them, however, were canisters that Curt couldn’t quite recognize. They seemed to be some sort of gas, but even in illegal arms dealing there was usually some sort of identifying markings. These were entirely blank. Before Curt could begin to think of possible continents of the aluminum canisters, an agent began to make their way up the stairwell. Directly towards him. 

Curt ducked into a cramped office as the sound of boots on metal grates echoed through the upper floor. He tried to listen in for voices, but it was impossible to hear over the clanking of metal and Cobb’s nearly manic shouting below him. He had to come up with a plan, and fast. He could take out an officer and attempt to blend in, but Cobb would recognize him immediately. Curt hated to admit it, but Alexander had the upper hand. 

The sound of distant gunshots broke his focus as the warehouse fell silent. He listened intently, trying to decipher the direction of the shots. They certainly weren’t coming from inside the building, and there hadn’t been enough time for the drivers to get a safe distance for Carter to uphold his end of the deal. It couldn’t have been Carter. 

A single voice rang out amongst the crowd. 

“De bestuurder!” The voice was panicked, and at the cry, Curt heard people quickly funnelling from the building. 

Curt was going to kill Carter himself.

He carefully opened the door as the factory went quiet once more. He was alone, save for about ten agents that had hung back. He needed to move, and he needed to move now. From his vantage point on the catwalk, Curt had a clear view of the factory floor. There were dozens of conveyor belts, damn near overflowing with weaponry, and boxes upon boxes of the unmarked gas. On the north side of the factory, there was a single door leading into a windowed room. He couldn’t see much, but he could make out a pile of files sitting on the desk. Target achieved. 

Just like that, Curt was on the move. There was a large venting system running throughout the building, however, that was not an option. The option he did have was a large ladder facing the agents directly. It seemed the only way down was directly in the line of fire. Curt was going to have to distract them somehow.

Pulling the neck of his T-shirt over his mouth and nose, and praying to whatever god was watching him that it would be enough protection, Curt fired a round at the boxes. A thick, blue smoke began to pour from the crates, and Curt watched as the remaining agents began to choke on the smog. His own eyes began to water as he descended into the heart of the chaos he had just wrought. The agents were on the ground by the time he reached the bottom. His conscience getting the better of him, Curt pauses only to ensure the agent nearest him still had a pulse and continued on once he found it. The only life he wanted to take today was Cobb’s. The rest of them were going to be the Belgian government’s problem soon enough. Curt began to cough as he entered the office, clean air rushing into his lungs. He reached the desk, but his vision blurred too much for him to make out the document’s contents. Regrounding himself, he shoved the files into his coat and began rummaging through the desk for anything else of importance when the agents began to file back into the room. He was cornered, in an office with nothing but a sheet of glass between him, and Chimera. 

Owen struggled to take in the room around him. When he stepped in, he turned heads. He heard hushed whispers about his return, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak up and silence them. He could hardly believe it himself. He was so sure it was over, Curt had _ promised _ him it was over, but here he was, in an unfamiliar country surrounded by unfamiliar faces. As he took his seat on one of the couches filling the room of the drab safehouse, he recognized one face in the crowd of six agents. A redheaded woman who he had only vague memories of from the day of his rescue. That entire week was almost a complete blur to him now, and thankfully, but this woman. He knew for certain he knew her face. 

“Alright, it seems we are all here. Let’s begin.” Her thick Russian accent caught Owen off guard. He had been rescued by the Americans. Who was this woman? “Agents Carter and Mega have both gone offline. I understand it has been a long day of travel for many of you, but we need to act fast if we want to have a shot at getting to them in time. The last bit of information we received from Mega was that they were stationed in a factory, about 15 minutes away from our current location. There are many Chimera agents on site, and I can only imagine Alexander Cobb is leading the mission.” 

Owen’s stomach dropped. Cobb. The man that held him for months. That man killed everything Owen had once been. The man that had forced him to pull himself together by whatever scraps he had left behind. 

Owen felt sick. 

He stood up, and with no more than a polite pardon, he darted to the nearest side room. 

As he stumbled into the darkness, his mind was racing out of his control. How was he supposed to go back and face Chimera? Why did he ever think he could do this? It was too much. If he failed, he could very well be taken back into Cobb’s grasp, and drag Curt there with him. This was a mistake. He was a mistake. What the hell was he doing here? He only had the clothes on his back, a small carry-on, and a fake passport Cynthia had left with the driver. He was unarmed, afraid, and currently hiding from the group trying to save the love of his life. Why was he here?

Before he could spiral too much, he heard the door click shut behind him. The lights came on, and his pacing ceased as he saw the same woman from before standing in front of him. 

“Owen, I know this must be difficult, but Curt needs you to get it together.” He cringed. 

“This was a mistake, It’s been months. I still wake up screaming. I’m not ready to face them again.” Owen’s voice shook more than he intended, but to hell with it. 

“You don’t think we all have memories too? We had to fight Chimera off, we had to fight  _ you _ off! I’m trying to get the team to trust you again, and you need to trust yourself.” The mystery woman laid a hand on Owen’s shoulder, he shoved it away and took a step back. He searched her eyes for any glimpse of familiarity and found nothing. “You don’t remember us, do you?” Owen took a shaky breath and shook his head. 

“Just you. Barely. I don’t recall your name or voice. Just the hair.” He remembered her pointing a gun at him. He remembered being entirely calm as she approached. He remembered hoping that she would pull the trigger. He attempted to ground himself, but this was all too much. 

“Oh.” She sat down on the bed, ushering Owen to follow. He did. “We were the backup Director Houston had called in for your extraction. All of us. I am inclined to believe that Cynthia thought that since we had seen this beast before, we are the best team to try and take them down again.”

“Who are you?” Owen nearly whispered. 

“My name is Tatiana, I was on a mission with Curt while you were, let’s say, away. When he got the call that you were alive, he called me. How much do you remember from the month of your extraction?” Owen noted her word choice. Extraction sounded so much better to him than rescue, despite that really being what it was. That being said, it reminded him that for a moment, he was Chimera’s. Rescue made it seem like he had been a victim. To some he was. When he looked in himself, however, all he saw was a man weak enough to be manipulated into carrying out killings for an organization that now had his lover cornered.

“Not much. I remember being told someone was coming after my family, and I had to take them out before they got to them. I went out, not knowing where or who my family even was. Next thing I know Curt is holding me, and we’re surrounded by people I don’t remember. I didn’t even recognize Curt at the time. The rest of that time is a complete blur.” Owen spoke slowly, and he hated the feeling of walking on eggshells around his own thoughts, but if he was going to try and fight, he needed to be careful with what memories he dug up.

“Nothing else?” Tatianna was pushing her luck, and they both knew it. 

He remembered the hurt in Curt’s eyes, he remembered Curt sobbing into his shoulder once he had stopped trying to fight. He remembered getting sick once Curt let go. He remembered looking at Curt and not knowing who he was. He remembered thinking that they were going to kill him. He remembers the burning fear that consumed him.

“Nothing I want to remember.”

“I see. Then all you need to know about me is I am a friend of Curt’s. The team we have here is made up of Americans who happened to be assigned your case. They all care about you, Owen. They care about Curt. Our mission isn’t to take down Chimera, it is to get Curt home safe, that is all. If we are going to move, we need to move now or else we will lose our chance. So, agent Carvour, are you in?”


	12. the other shoe.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Curt's mission goes awry.  
Owen's is just beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! I've got some big plans for the next chapter, and because of that, it may take me a few days to get it out into the world. I wanted to get this short lil prelude out ASAP though, so here it is, and as always, thank you so much for sticking with me!

The air was thick in the small office, and Curt knew he needed to find an escape fast. Taking inventory of possible exits was far from easy. The bay window prevented him from being able to stand upright without being seen, and the longer he stayed low to the ground, the more laboured his breathing became. The noise of the confused factory workers drowned out any coherent thought, and so Curt stood, back pressed to the door, and tried to think. Cobb could come in here any second. When he did, there would be blood. Before that could happen, Curt would have to get back to his abandoned comm, alert the local agency, and evacuate the building. The only way back up was the ladder he had used to get down. Maybe he could signal Carter to- Oh shit. Carter. 

Carter had fired early. Carter was surrounded by Chimera agents. There was no way Carter was alive. They had to know that he wasn’t alone. 

Curt’s hands began to shake as he came to terms with the fact that his cover had been blown wide open. His breathing picked up as he realized his partner was dead. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat as he realized he was facing Chimera alone.

Owen had reluctantly agreed to help the assembled team in their extraction efforts. Tatianna had handed him a gun and gave him a rundown of the plan. They were to enter through the loading docks in an unmarked white truck like the ones Chimera was using to transport their shipments. When the agents began to unload the truck, half of the group would ambush Chimera outside, and the other half would go in, get Curt, and get out. He was a part of the latter half. Tatianna had advised against it, but Owen knew if he was going in, it had to be for Curt. The plan was daunting and difficult, but clear. With their combined experience, they should get by relatively unharmed. That didn’t help calm Owen’s nerves as he was led into the back of the truck. 

The door closed behind him, and as he sat there with Tati and a handful of other agents he didn’t know, he made fast friends with the darkness that enveloped them. No amount of preparation could have made Owen feel at ease. He was facing his biggest enemy, and they had Curt. As his thoughts continued to swirl with the jostling of the truck, the fear that ate at him was slowly replaced by anger. It all came back to him. Piece by piece, he remembered all they said. All they did. Although fuzzy, memories began to trace to scars on his hands. The scars on his hands traced to scars elsewhere on his body, and his rage only grew. He was far from ready, but Tati was right. He had to do this. He had to get Curt, and if in the process he eliminated the man who took his livelihood away, so be it. The pounding in Owen’s chest grew, but rather than afraid, he felt exhilarated. 

Curt’s head was pounding. Whether it was the stress of the situation, or the gas slowly but surely trickling under the door, he couldn’t tell. There was no more time for planning. No time to be careful. Curt took a deep breath and raised his gun as the air burnt his lungs. He quietly opened the door before making a break for the ladder. He made it to the third wrung before feeling a sharp tug at his ankle. He attempted to kick it away, but that only made the enemy agent pull harder, and the next thing he knew, Curt was on the ground, choking on his own breath. The face looking down at him was menacing, emotionless, and painfully familiar. 

“Nice try, Mega. Always the type for dramatics, eh?” Cobb’s voice was like poison dripping into Curt’s skin. “I’m sorry, old pal, but you had to have known you couldn’t defeat me.” 

It was a flash that erupted the factory into further chaos as Curt landed an expertly placed blow to Cobb’s jaw, sending him toppling to the floor. He was quick to get back on his feet, grabbing Curt by the hair, and dragged him back into the office. 

“If you’re so deadset on a show, I’ll give you a show.” 

The truck slowed to a stop as Owen and the team readied their weapons. They had little to no information on the layout of the factory, so they were truly going in blind. As they sat, unmoving in front of the factory’s loading dock, Tatianna’s comm crackled to life. 

“Guys. The other trucks. The drivers are dead.”

Silence takes over the back of the truck. The air grows thick as Tatianna finally speaks.

“Well, let’s move.”


	13. Strike back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the fight of their lives. 
> 
> The question is, do they have the strength to win?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay y'all this one is a doozy at 4000 words. Thank you for your patience with me while I worked with this chapter. It's an incredibly dark one, so it comes with some warnings, Torture, manipulation, a fair amount of violence, one scene quite graphic, so as always stay safe. Thank you for reading!

Tatianna stood under the imposing height of the factory. They made their way through the discarded vehicles, the other drivers all harbouring precise bullet holes right between their eyes. By far the most concerning part was the lack of distance between the factory and the now unmanned trucks. They weren’t even out of the gates yet, in fact, one truck was right at the threshold. Curt never would have been so messy, Owen knew that well. He was impulsive, but he was quick, never would he have been so careless. They stepped through the debris and as the doors came into full, unobstructed view, one of the agents stopped dead in his tracks. Owen stepped forward, and when he looked down, he saw a small blonde man, his body littered with bullets. Tatianna pushed past the others, carefully examining the body before them. With a gentleness he would not have expected from her, she began to litter through the seams of his jacket, searching for something she couldn’t seem to find. Her fingers stopped as they landed on a small token sewn into the shoulder seam of the man’s shirt. She carefully tore away the fabric and pulled out a medallion.

“A.S.S. It’s Agent Carter.” The group took a moment to reevaluate their plan. If Carter had been eliminated, that meant Curt was alone. Owen’s stomach dropped at the discovery. If Carter hadn’t made it, what were the odds Curt was alive? What were the odds he would be if they waited any longer? 

“We need to regroup and move in. We don’t have much time.” Owen began to walk up to the doors, and the rest of the group fell into formation. He couldn’t come home without Curt. He’d rather not come home at all.

Tatianna looked impossibly small as she surveyed the large garage-like doors in front of the group. After fiddling with them for more time than they truly had, only to find them locked as expected, she motioned the group around the side of the structure. As they rounded the corner, they saw their way in. Their approach was slow and measured. Soon, they stood at the dangerously fine line between relative safety and absolute war. The only thing between the agents and Chimera was a flimsy-looking door, the broken lock discarded a few feet away. That door was the only thing separating Owen from everything he feared, everything he  _ was. _ He took a deep breath and held it as the other agents passed the threshold. 

With a crack, Cobb’s fist collided with Curt’s skull once again. It was getting harder to fight back, but by god, he was fighting. The more he coughed, the more his ribs ached for rest, but he couldn’t. Not with so much on the line. 

“Mega.” Another blow.

“Your agency has tried this before.” A well-placed kick.

“And they failed.” Curt was pulled up by the collar of his jacket, and rather than more pain, he was greeted by a sick, warm breath against his neck. 

“ _ You _ failed.” He hit the ground with a thud, and despite his best efforts to argue, to tease, or hell, even to beg for mercy, all he could do was continue to choke on the blue vapour. Cobb stood and muddled slowly through his belongings in the desk before pulling out a mask and strapping it around his head. 

“Now, what do you say we give the people what they want?”

The team reached the catwalk of the facility, and they took in the sight below. The mass of weaponry. The masks the workers all had on. The thick, blue fog settled on the floor. Owen watched them walk into the path of Chimera. He just couldn’t. The second he saw the factory floor, he would be confronting his past head-on, and there was a very real chance he could lose. He got out of this life, and the longer he was out, the less he wanted back in. The noise of the Chimera agents working below him, muttering in a language he didn’t understand, it made his skin crawl. He stood there, frozen, as he watched the faces of his colleagues shift from focus to terror as a door slammed shut on the factory floor. 

Curt was dragged out by his collar, and a hundred masked faces stared back at him. He was released and dropped in the dead centre of the facility. All around him rows upon rows of conveyor belts were all stacked high, manned by these agents of chaos. The sudden silence that overtook the room was unnerving, to say the least, but Cobb said these people wanted a show. His legs threatened to give on him as he shakily got to his feet. For the first time tonight, he was looking Cobb in the eyes. They were on the same level now, and despite the odds growing ever slimmer, Curt was determined to win. 

“I know you didn’t bring me all the way out here for a nice dinner, so what’s your game?” Curt’s voice was gruff, the gas having wreaked havoc on his lungs. 

“This isn’t about us, Mega. This is about the agency you work for.” Cobb turned to the crowd, seemingly commanding their every breath with a wave of his hand. 

“These people, these shills, acting in pursuit of their government’s goals. They are our enemies today. However, I hope you all remember our mission. A united world. The work you all are doing today stops these men from having to die in vain. You, agent, are outnumbered, and you are obsolete. Our methods may be unorthodox, but you all know that to rebuild, you must first demolish the broken.” 

The distant sound of Cobb’s voice drew Owen in. His hands shook as he tried to steady them on his weapon. He was here. There was nowhere to run. Owen reached the group, as they stood in plain sight, watching from above. Despite the ringing in his ears and his heart pounding out of his chest, he tried to remain analytical. Like this was any other mission. He took stock of the weapons, the gas, the conveyor belts. That was when his eyes landed on Curt. Bloodied, his legs wavering. Owen had to focus on not throwing up. He was alive, but against the sheer number of agents organized under Cobb’s command, he didn’t stand a chance. Tatianna rested her hand on his shoulder. They watched as Curt opened his mouth to speak, and was immediately silenced by a harsh strike that brought him to the floor. 

Cobb looked to the group, locked eyes with Owen, and gave a nod. Demolish the broken to build anew. Owen’s vision spun as he tried to make sense of Cobb’s words. Demolish the broken. Take the free will from the spy. Rebuild the new. Plant a new identity within them, a new purpose. Broken. Tear them down to nothing, give them nothing, make them nothing. 

“Owen we need to move.” Tatianna’s voice sounded miles away. 

“Owen, quickly, It’s time!” He didn’t move. 

His eyes drifted to Curt once more, choking on the fog, bleeding, broken. Demolish the broken. 

Tatianna pulled Owen to the other side of the catwalk, before unceremoniously slamming him into the wall. Owen’s eyes met hers. She had tears threatening to fall. 

“We talked about this man, Curt needs us, you see him down there. We need to act now if you ever want him home again.” She sounded hurt, and Owen took notice of the vice grip she had him in. “He needs you, and I need him to get out of here. Please, I’m begging you to get a grip.” Owen looked into her eyes, and something seemed to click. 

Owen knew what needed to be done. He had known it before. However, upon seeing Cobb, and watching Curt struggle on the floor below, all of the invigoration and near excitement he had felt in the truck left him. He had nothing but his will, and he was doing his best to make good use of it. 

“I’m sorry, it was just-”

“You do not need to apologize, you need to stand with us.”

“Lead the way.” 

Curt rose to his feet once more, all of his strength going into what he knew may be his last act of defiance. He spat on the floor, his saliva a sickening mix of red and blue. The gas was making it all the harder to stand, and Curt felt that he hadn’t much left in him.

“What would your sister think, Alexander?” 

That seemed to stop Cobb right in his tracks. He turned to face Curt and for a moment, and even with the gas mask blocking out his face, he seemed human for just a moment. 

“What the fuck did you just say?”

“She would hate everything you’ve become and you know it.”

“You don’t get to speak for her.” Cobb threatened, his body tensing.

“You’re acting against a system that gave your family everything. She was a hero. You’re a terrorist.” That earned Curt a punch to the chin, but against all odds, he stayed standing. 

“You pretend like you have no horse in this race, but you do. You always have. You miss her, and you hate that she died defending a system that never gave you the glory you wanted. Well, take a look at yourself.” Curt struggled to catch his breath, but the awestricken silence surrounding him was more than enough to give him the energy to continue on. “You look at yourself and you tell me that she would be proud of the monster you’ve become.”

Cobb was silent. He stepped forward and the next thing Curt knew his hands were clasped around his throat. He struggled under his weight, but he had nothing left in him to fight. It was at that moment that a gunshot rang throughout the factory, and commotion overtook the room. 

Tatianna lowered her gun and stepped into the middle of the chaos, the rest of the group following close behind. Almost instantaneously, they were surrounded by Chimera agents. They made quick work, Owen and two other agents swiftly moving through the crowd, as Tatianna and her colleagues took out as many of them as possible. 

The chaos was good cover, as the allied fire made the body count rise, more enemy agents filled the empty space. They couldn’t fend them off forever though. They needed to find Curt. 

Owen was frantic. The thick of the crowd was suffocating, and there was no way out. Cobb knew they were there, the plan was in action. He pushed past Chimera agents, firing shots of his own into the mob. He followed close behind the American agents, doing his best to keep watch on them while keeping his eyes peeled for Curt. His mind was racing faster than he could control, but he kept his eyes on the target and continued on. He tried to, at least, until he tripped and landed with a crash onto the cement floor. When he looked up, the Americans were gone, but Cobb and Curt were right in front of him. 

He couldn’t cry out. He couldn’t call for help. He couldn’t move. All Owen could do was watch as Cobb sharply pulled his hands away from Curt’s throat, leaving him choking on the ground, gasping for the tainted air all around them. Owen didn’t even notice the burning in his own lungs as Cobb stood, a grim smile spreading across his face. Owen knew the mission objective, it was so close that he should have been able to taste it, but he froze. He sat there as Cobb reached out to him, grabbed him by the collar, and hoisted him to his feet. His face was too gentle, as if he were handling a child.

“You shouldn’t have come back here, 32.”

That was all it took for Owen to crumble.

Curt’s vision came back slowly, but when it did he registered two things. Cobb was gone, and there was gunfire echoing through the building. He willed any strength he had, and with his energy quickly depleting, he began to make the excruciating journey to one of the conveyor belts. Every movement made his bones ring, and he could only suspect that he was leaving quite a bloody mess in his wake. He felt too wet and too warm. He had one chance to stop them, and he was willing to use every last breath to do it. The sting of cold metal against his skin was a welcoming surprise once he finally reached it. His entire being was aching for release, for one proper breath, but Curt of all people knew that wasn’t likely. Sitting up as much as his body allowed, he began to feel around the conveyor for something useful. His hands found a few bottles of gas, a box of ammunition, and a nearly useless array of small bits and pieces. Examining his findings, he began to piece them together. He had worked with way less before. 

The door slammed shut behind him, but Owen didn’t hear it. All he heard was his own laboured breathing. Cobb’s hand lingered softly on the small of Owen’s back. The gentle contact felt like fire against his skin. He was being led to a chair, so he sat. Cobb knelt in front of him, Owen avoided his gaze. A stern hand gripped his chin and led his eyesight back.

“I thought you had learned your lesson, 32.” Cobb clicked his tongue. “Look at you, you’re a mess.” Owen’s mind was blank as the imposing figure maneuvered his face, seeming to take in the failure before him. 

“Looks like we wasted a lot of time and money oh you, boy. It’s a shame. You could have been something.” The silence lingered in the air. Owen didn’t dare speak out of turn. He knew what that would get him all too well.

“I know why you’re here. You want to take the agent back. It’s odd though, he took you from me, and now you’re trying to rescue him from a trap his own hubris laid?” 

Owen’s breath hitched.

“Speak, 32. Enlighten me.”

Owen opened his mouth, but he couldn’t speak. Cobb raised his hand, and Owen instinctively flinched away.

  
  


“I said speak.” Any ounce of feigned tenderness was gone, and the poison dripping off of Cobb’s lips was enough to prompt a mousy reply.

“I don’t work for you anymore.” The strike came fast, and the backhand that landed was as painful as it was utterly demeaning.

“You  _ never _ worked for me. I owned you, agent.” There was fire in his eyes, and Owen regretted speaking. It only ever got him hurt. “We should have disposed of you when we had the chance. You blew your mission, and got captured for what? A false life with figures you could never trust.” Owen’s pulse quickened. “I know what goes on in that head of yours, 32. I built you. I have always been the one at the wheel. You see me in the shadows, don’t you?” Owen tried to back away, but only succeeded in knocking his chair to the ground. He squeezed his eyes shut, and tried to ground himself. 

“That’s because I am you.”  _ It was human experimentation. _

“Everything you are, I built.”  _ The plan had been abandoned by the Americans. _

Curt’s voice rang through his head as he thought about the simple, crushing mantras layed out in his notebook. 

“You were nothing, I made you  _ worth something _ and you gave it up for your little lover. That’s the thing, 32. He doesn’t know you. Nobody does. Except for me.”  _ They succeeded.  _ Not this time.

Owen felt as if lightning had just been injected into him as he remembered why he was here. With a strength he hadn’t expected, Owen placed a kick that sent Cobb to the floor. As Owen stood, finally above the other man, he took in the sight before him. It was only then that he saw how truly small and, well, human Cobb looked. He began walking towards the door, ready to leave him gasping for air on the ground. Something stopped him though. Some may call it foolishness, he called it vindication.

“You don’t know me, Cobb. You lie, and you cheat, all under the guise of science and revolution, but you’re nothing more than a monster. You say your plan for a new world is a utopic future, but you have left nothing but shattered pieces in your wake. That ends today. Better tell your little friends that 32 has deflected again, and you tell them that it’s your fault he got away.” Owen turned, he was here to get Curt and that’s exactly what he was going to do. 

That was until he was once again knocked to the cold, unforgiving ground. Cobb had gone for the knees, and the shock and force of the fall had left him breathless. The blue fog clouded his vision, and his mouth went dry as he sucked in whatever air he could get.

"No matter what you do,” A punch.

“no matter what you believe,” Owen heard bone crack, whether it was his or Cobb’s, he couldn’t tell.

“you will always be mine and mine alone." He felt sticky, why did he feel sticky? He had gotten so close, why did he let himself get distracted?

“You are broken. You are weak.” He struggled under Cobb’s grasp, but he had been bested by the surprise.

“You think you’re free? You think he loves you?” His head ached as his hair was pulled sharply upwards.

“Nobody could ever love such a pathetic, disgusting thing.” Owen’s ears rung as his head made contact with the cement. 

When his vision finally cleared, Owen saw red. 

Curt had finally gotten something he could work with. It was small, but it was gonna be powerful. His head spun as he admired his creation. Eight canisters strapped together, compressed gas was already explosive, but the gunpowder stuffed inside was definitely a bonus. He had a long fuse to work with, it gave him about five minutes to try and heave his ass out of there, and if he failed, at least he’d destroy most of the weapons in the process. If he did it, he would have beaten his and Owen’s record by a full minute. His heart sank.

As he lit the fuse, he thought about Owen. He was probably worried sick by now. He heaved himself to his feet, but his legs couldn’t take much more, and he found himself back where he started. Owen would be crushed if he didn’t make it out. He had promised he would be home soon, but every second that passed made that promise seem harder and harder to keep. He crawled his way through the factory, noting the growing number of bodies littering the floor. He knew he hadn’t been the one to put them there, but he had no time to question it further as the effects of the gas further slowed his crawl. 

As he reached a relatively empty stretch between belts, he could see the door, but didn’t have the strength to go any further. He was going to die here, and he would never be able to tell Owen he was sorry. He was sorry for so much. He was sorry for leaving him alone in Atlanta, he was sorry for always trying to be the hero. He could never forgive himself for letting Owen fall into Chimera’s grasp in the first place. He had no idea how fast time was going, or how much he had left, but he knew it wasn’t enough. Without Owen by his side, no amount of time would have been enough.

He couldn’t even react as a soft hand pulled him to his feet. He tried to lift his head, but he couldn’t. All he could do was relish in the feel of human touch. At least he wasn’t going to die alone.

“I have him, we need to find Owen and get out!” The voice sounded familiar, the thick accent gave her away. Why was Tatianna here? Did she say Owen?

“Tati?” Curt barely made a sound as he sighed out to the person supporting him. What was happening?

“Hey, hey, yeah, it’s me! You’re awake!” Now he was. Through the white noise drowning out most coherent thought, one thing sprang back to Curt’s mind. The Bomb.

  
  


Owen heard nothing. He saw nothing. He felt the sharp crack of bone and cartilage turning to mush beneath his fingers. He had completely given over to the animal inside, and he was going to take Cobb’s life if it was the last thing he did. Every punch he landed fueled the fire within him. He had free will, and he was going to use it the way he had been trained to.

If he had been paying attention, he may have been able to hear Cobb’s voice in the back of his head, chastising him for being too messy.

He punched harder.

Cobb would be telling him that he was taking too long. 

He pulled out his gun.

Cobb would have beaten him for this.

He took one last swing at Cobb. With as much force as he could manage, he drove the back of the pistol into his head.

Cobb would have had a lot to say right now, but he was motionless beneath him.

The follow-through on the hit shook Owen from his trance, and the pain all rushed back at once. He took in the sight before him. That was no longer a man. He had all but butchered him. With his bare hands.

Tatianna and the rest of the team reached the door just as Owen threw up. Strangled sobs took whatever breath he had left. He hardly felt one of the Americans link his arm under Owen’s and help him to his feet. 

“Carvour, we have to go.” The male agent spoke cautiously as he began to drag Owen from the room. 

“No! Not without Curt, we have a mission, that’s what we came here to do!” Owen barely gets his sentence out before a weak hand grabs ahold of his. His eyes meet Curt’s and he crumbles all over again. He wasn’t the type to cry in front of strangers, but he couldn’t stop. He linked his free arm with Curt’s and stood, weeping, holding onto the man he loved like he would disappear if he blinked. 

“Owen. Bomb.” Curt’s voice was weak and raspy, and Owen could barely make out what he had said. 

“What?” 

Tatianna began to charge ahead, glancing over her shoulder before picking up the pace so much that Owen almost couldn’t keep up. 

“Curt wired explosives to destroy the weaponry.” Tatianna sounded genuinely afraid, and that was enough to get Owen moving. 

The commotion continued as the six dodged Chimera operatives, eliminating them as they reached the doors. 

Owen’s mind was still in the thick fog, confusion and nausea overriding his senses. 

Curt was more focused on staying conscious. Getting the people who came to save him out of the building. Getting Owen out. He was having a hard time convincing himself he was actually there. He couldn’t be, he wasn’t cleared. Yet there he stood grasping at his waist like it was the only thing holding him to the ground. 

After what had seemed like hours, they finally reached the garage doors. As Tatianna released the latch and began to work at gaining crawlspace, gunfire drenched the group, and more blue gas began to fill the air. They quickened their work, and once they were satisfied with the space, they made their exit. 

As they reached the abandoned vehicle, Owen couldn’t ignore the feeling of Curt dragging behind. Before he could even process, Curt was completely limp at his side. 

Every cell in his body was screaming. He wanted nothing more than to stop and hold Curt until things were okay again. He needed him to be okay. More than that, however, they needed to get into the truck. The cargo door on the back of the vehicle was heaved open, and after a struggle working around the team’s various injuries, they were on their way.

The darkness enveloped them once again, but it was no longer friendly to Owen. The sound of rattled breathing was all he could hear as he clutched his partner, taking any comfort he could find in the sensation of Curt’s heart beating against his chest. Every bump caused him to wince, and when he finally looked down at his partner, his head spun at the sheer amount of blood drenching them both. Owen knew it wasn’t all theirs, but the thought was far from comforting. 

He had killed a man today. The feeling of his partner’s deep breaths that normally would have grounded him felt wrong. Owen couldn’t help but wonder if he could have done something different. If he had moved faster, maybe one of the Americans wouldn’t have taken a bullet to the shoulder. If he had pulled himself together, maybe Tatianna wouldn’t be staring blankly at her hands. If he had walked away from Cobb when he had the chance, maybe Curt would be talking to him right now, rather than laying slack against his chest.

He was jolted out of his thoughts by the truck shaking as Curt’s bomb detonated, sending the building and everything in it up in flames.

Owen held Curt tighter as a wave of pain shocked through his body. He felt the truck gain speed as they drove towards the safehouse. He hadn’t even thought of what would happen after. He was so caught up in his own mind that Owen hadn’t even considered what would happen in a worst-case scenario.

It was here now, though. The winding road ahead seemed impossible to traverse. His blood-soaked hands stuck to Curt’s clothing as he readjusted his grip. Owen stared at nothing as the truck drove on. He was numb. His arms were full, but he was empty.


	14. aftermath.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mission is done, but the scars feel too fresh to bare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay in getting this one out, after the last chapter, I hit quite the writer's block. But! here we are! once school eases up, updates will fall back into some semblance of a routine, I promise. As always, thank you for your support, it means the world. I hope you enjoy.
> 
> this chapter has warmings for the description of a panic attack, albeit implied, semi-graphic descriptions of injuries, and the same past torture we tackled in past chapters. as always, stay safe and if I missed anything let me know!

It was only when Owen was carrying Curt to the safehouse that things began to sink in. The events of the night trickled back to him slowly as the sun began to inch over the horizon. Every one he wished he could forget. 

Time seemed to stand still as Curt was taken from his arms, leaving him standing alone in front of the entryway. He almost wished he could focus long enough to think properly, but he was grateful for the thread holding him together. If he had time to reflect and process, he was certain he would fall apart there on the doorstep. He wasn’t sure if he could be put together again if that happened. 

“He’s going to be okay, Owen. Curt Mega doesn’t give up without a fight.” A gentle hand came to rest on his shoulder, and he barely reacted as Tatianna stepped in front of him to look him in the eyes. He couldn’t do this. Owen looked down at his feet, finally seeing all the blood in the light of dawn. His hands began to shake, just slightly. He couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“Owen?” 

His once grey shirt was now a dark maroon. Most of the blood had dried, making his clothes stick to him uncomfortably, but the visual was what really made his head spin. He took a breath and looked up at Tatianna. She looked concerned, and Owen almost felt guilty for not being able to give her more than a weak nod before stepping inside, leaving her confused on the steps of the safehouse. 

He couldn’t face anyone. He couldn’t make it real. Not yet. He vaguely recalled the layout of the house, and his body began moving him towards the bedroom, despite his mind being far away. He walked past the kitchen and stopped dead in his tracks as he watched the agency doctors tend to Curt. Their calm demeanours should have soothed Owen, but it was unsettling. They were so collected despite Curt looking so small, bloody and beaten before them. He couldn’t look away. He had never seen anything like it. It was almost like a dance, the way the two doctors predicted each other’s movements. There was beauty in the act. Owen watched as they stitched Curt’s wounds, got the bleeding under control, and began trying to get Curt awake. He could have been standing there for hours, but he could hardly tell. He found himself hypnotized by the art hidden in crisis. He wishes, just for a second, that he could have done the same. Instead, he continues on his path, aching for silence. Aching for rest.

He reached the bedroom and somehow managed to do so uninterrupted. The static remained, but it was welcome. It drowned out the memories. He reached for the doorknob, and as he did a flash of pain shot through his body. His hands.  _ Oh, god _ his hands. Taken off guard, Owen dropped to his knees, clutching his fists close to his body. He hadn’t even noticed. He glanced down and saw deep bruises spreading across his knuckles beneath the thick coat of blood. 

His blood? Some of it. 

Curt’s blood? Possibly.

Cobb’s blood? Yes.

The connection fired as a shiver rocked Owen’s hunched form, sending another shockwave through his senses. He hadn’t even noticed the pain. He hadn’t allowed himself to notice the distinct crunch of shifting bone in the truck whenever he adjusted his grip on Curt, or the deep ache in his skull, or the dizziness from the probable concussion Cobb gave him when he slammed his head into the office floor. He hadn’t had time to take inventory. Every new sensation brought back a memory Owen didn’t want.

He had killed Cobb. Curt was hurt. He froze. Chimera. 32. Dizzy. Mine. Cobb. Cobb. Cobb. 32. 32. 32. 32. 32. Dizzy. Pain. Pain. Pain.

Owen was deafened by the roar of his thoughts. He was vaguely aware that none were coherent, but not aware enough to stop them. He wasn’t aware enough to do anything, really. So there he stayed. The carpet was slowly taking on the colour of his clothes as the blood rubbed off onto the beige flooring. The room was spinning, but he couldn’t call for help. He couldn’t even cover his ears. All he could do was stare at the carpet, changing colour faster than he expected as the blood-stained the space around him. He felt sick, but his mind won over his stomach and he remained frozen in space, but falling faster into the oblivion of his own mind than anyone could imagine. 

The floor felt like quicksand beneath him. He was sinking and he couldn’t move to pull himself up. The white noise and the pain were becoming too much. He tried to focus on his breathing, attempting to keep a steady pace, but every shuddering breath made each scrape, bruise, and break scream it’s presence. It felt loud. Owen had no other way to describe it. Every sense in his body was blown out, and he was completely unable to stop it. 

Owen could hardly distinguish the commotion down the hall from his own racing thoughts, but the shift in the tone was impossible not to recognize, even if he was unable to make anything of it. 

Owen struggled against the gray creeping into the edge of his vision. He screwed his eyes closed as he tried to will himself to solid ground. He squeezed his hand as tight as he could, the fractures in his fingers just barely scraping muscle as he did. He felt more than he heard the sound that escaped him. It made the pounding in his head intensify, and the room began to spin out of control once more. 

The hand that came to rest on his back shouldn’t have been a surprise, but Owen flinched hard at the sudden contact nonetheless. One of the agents he was unfamiliar with, Susan, he thought the man’s name was, crouched down next to him. 

“Carvour, Curt’s asking for you.” 

Owen’s world came to a screeching halt. Curt was awake. He broke his gaze to look up at the other man, who was eyeing the bloody carpet with concern, but a slight smile on his face nonetheless.

“Only if you’re up for it.” Susan said, offering a hand to Owen.

Owen nodded, allowing the man to help him to his feet, but the level change nearly sent him toppling again. Susan readjusted his grip and Owen gave in, leaning most of his weight on the shorter man as he reluctantly allowed himself to be led to the kitchen. 

The lights made his eyes sting, but once he adjusted and he caught a glimpse of Curt, he felt like he was falling all over again. Susan directed him towards a chair at the dining table the doctors had been working on, and for the first time in nearly two weeks, Owen was blessed with Curt’s cocky smile. It was weak, but it was there, clear as day. 

“Hey. Not that I’m not glad to see you, but why are you here?” Curt’s voice was painfully hoarse, and Owen winced a bit at the sound. Owen didn’t know what to say. He tried desperately to collect his thoughts, but to no avail. 

All he could do was grab Curt’s hand, and be with him like he had longed the whole time he had been away. 

Soon someone would have to catch Curt up, and he was not going to be happy. 

All that mattered now was that they had left in one piece, right?

Owen prayed that he would eventually convince himself that that was the truth.


	15. Lost in the great somewhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fluorescent lights and the worry nagging at him are not quite what he wanted to wake up to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! not much to say about this one, more descriptions of blood as with the last chapter. Thanks as always for reading and I really hope y'all enjoy!

The lights stung Curt’s eyes as he eventually succeeded in prying them open. The gasping breaths came next, too fast if you asked Curt. His lungs felt heavy, and every breath he took in sent fire into his chest. By the time his vision cleared, an unsettling calm had washed over the room. The few people standing around the kitchen seemed to freeze in time as he wheezed, laying on the dining table.

It was a vulnerable position, to say the least. A deep ache settled in his bones as he took in the worried faces around him. He only had vague memories of the past 24 hours. He knew he recognized these people, they were friends, colleagues, agents he trusted. The first person he was certain of was Cynthia, sitting in the corner of the room, a cigarette dangling from her lips. He didn’t really appreciate what the secondhand smoke was doing to his lungs at the moment, but he still liked the scent. It reminded him of Owen. 

Wait, Owen. 

He was sure he had seen him in the chaos, but he knew that was irrational. He only caught a glimpse of Owen’s face for a moment, and he had been barely recognizable. He scanned the room further, looking for any sign of Owen, but he found nothing. What he found instead was Tatianna, standing beside his boss. Her brow was furrowed but she seemed calm beyond that. Noticing Curt’s gaze, she began to move to his side. 

“You did it, Curt.” She spoke through the small smile creeping its way across her face.

“What?” He noticed Tatianna was still standing tensely, but the sparkle in her eyes wasn’t something you could fake. Had he really done it? 

“The bomb you made, the factory is nothing but rubble now. I have to hand it to you, it was effective. The weapons won’t hit the streets any time soon. You’re a hero, Curt.”

The word “hero” left a sour taste in his mouth, but he didn’t quite know why. That’s what he always wanted, wasn’t it? Maybe he was in too much pain to think, or maybe it was because he didn’t remember much of the mission. No matter what the reasoning was, the praise was bittersweet.

“How?” Curt’s voice was quieter than he intended, and even the one word tore his throat to shreds, but he had to know. He shouldn’t have made it out. By all odds, he should be dead right now.

“Curt, the gas. We still do not know what it was exactly, but when our team found you, you just kept saying there was a bomb. I don’t know how you did it, but you did. Cobb is dead, the factory crumbled, and I imagine the rest of Chimera will fall soon as well.” 

Tatianna pulled him into a hug and Curt ignored the pain, sinking into the embrace. It was over. He did it. Owen was free. They were free. Curt didn’t even realize he was tearing up until Tati reached up and wiped a tear from his face. He felt as if the weight of the world had just been lifted from his shoulders, but despite that, something was nagging at him.

“Tati… Cobb had me in a lock. How the hell did I kill him?” 

“Right.” She sighed, shooting Cynthia a quick glance. Cynthia nodded in response, prompting Tati to continue. “You didn’t. Owen did.”

He was here. Why was he here? Curt glared at Cynthia with more confusion than malice, but he could sense that he didn’t look pleased, to say the least.

“Owen was with you? Is he here?”

“He is, he seemed a bit shaken up when we arrived, but we can get him for you if you’d like?” She was choosing her words carefully, and Curt took notice. He didn’t want to imagine the state Owen must have been in after today. 

“Yeah, yes please.”

Susan took that has his cue and exited the room. Curt locked eyes with Cynthia again. She was so nonchalant about this whole thing, and that alone raised more questions than answers. 

“Mega, I owe you an apology,” Curt said nothing, waiting for her to continue. “As much as I fucking despise admitting I fucked up, I did here. I should have given you a more competent partner, and I should have eased you in better. This was above your call of duty and I am sorry.”

Cynthia finished her smoke as Curt took in her words. He hadn’t even thought about Carter until now. Another young agent with a bright future dead. Add that to his body count, as well as however many Chimera agents were in that factory. A deep sense of shame settled in his bones, one he couldn’t see going away for a long while.

“It’s alright, Cynthia. We got the job done. I’m sorry about Carter.”

“The only way you could have stopped him was if you killed him yourself.”

In the silence that followed, a familiar figure entered the doorway. Curt began to crack a smile, trying to wrack his tired mind for a witty introduction when he noticed the insane amount of blood covering Owen. He was leaning all of his weight on Susan, who despite his strength was struggling to get Owen into the kitchen. His eyes looked empty. What the hell had happened? 

Owen sat before him, but something was very wrong. Curt knew there was something they weren’t telling him.

“Hey. Not that I’m not glad to see you, but why are you here?” Curt watched Owen wince at the sound of his voice, and Curt’s smile quickly faded.

Owen grabbed his hand and held onto it like it was the only thing holding him to the ground. Curt waited for what felt like a lifetime but Owen didn’t answer. He just held his hand as silent tears made their way down his face. It crushed Curt to see him like this, so he did the only thing he could think of at the moment. He brought him into a gentle embrace and just let him cry. He looked to Cynthia and Tati when he felt Owen tense suddenly. Curt let go, and Owen sat back in his chair, his breaths stuttering as he tried to bring in as much air as he could. 

“Someone looked him over, right?”

Tati shook her head.

“He ran inside the second we got here, and we weren’t sure if you were alive, Curt.”

“Jesus Christ, you guys, he’s covered in blood! Not one person checked in on him?”

“We were preoccupied.” Tati sounded like she was on the verge of snapping, and the voices battling for dominance was enough noise to break Owen from his trance.

“Stop yelling.” His voice was almost too quiet to hear, but it was enough to catch the room’s attention.

“I’m sorry.”

The doctors began to move towards them, as Curt searched Owen’s eyes for the words left unsaid.

He found nothing.


	16. a crack in the wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the boys have a heart to heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long, my motivation plummetted recently and I'm not sure why. Anywho, a long time in the making and we're starting a new chapter for our boys. Thank you for being patient, and for reading and interacting, it means the world!

The concern radiating off of Curt was disconcerting, to say the least. After all, Curt had been the one who almost died. He didn’t back down, though. He never did. Soon Owen found himself being ushered into a side room, and all he could do was watch in silence as the doctors did their work.  _ Like a dance _ , he thought. 

The throbbing in his head hadn’t died down, in fact, it had gotten worse if anything, but the crushing numbness he felt left him pretty quickly after his little reunion with Curt. He was okay, he was alive, and now he could come home. That was what really mattered, wasn’t it? The nagging voice in the back of Owen’s mind once again reminded him that they couldn’t just go back to normal. He was a killer, a ruthless killer. Not only today, he had been for years. It was his job, it was who he was. No matter how hard he tried, 32 would always be a part of him. The one part Curt didn’t even entirely know. Owen wasn’t sure he’d keep him around if he ever found out the full truth. 

Owen mindlessly followed the doctor’s instructions. He hated this. He hated being handled like fine china. Maybe he was, he thought, but at least put on a show for his dignity. Owen wanted to put up a fight, he really did, but the exhaustion that settled into his bones made it impossible. Lucky for him, the doctors made quick work. They were silent as they evaluated him, only ever speaking to tell him to turn.

The further Owen calmed in the stillness of the room, the more he was able to finally process the evening. Curt was alive, talking, and worried. He was sitting in a brightly lit room, drenched in three different people’s blood. That was the least of his worries though, as he was handed a clean shirt- Curt’s, he presumed- and was told to change. The doctors had been eerily quiet as the probed and poked at Owen’s injuries. Their hushed voices usually would have raised red flags in his mind, but right now Owen was eternally grateful for their silence. He did as he was told, slowly peeling the now dried, bloody shirt off. This proved more difficult than he would have liked, but after he managed to remove it, he felt a million times lighter, as if the weight of the sins he had just committed had been washed from him with the simple action. His speculation of the new shirt’s owner was confirmed as Curt’s comforting scent washed over him as he struggled to put it on. Once he did, the doctors sat down across from him.

The conversation was uncomfortable as Owen came down from the high that the adrenaline and panic had given him, but he knew they were just trying to do their job. He had a concussion, which he had expected, he was more shocked by the assumed breaks in his hands, and the fractured ribs. Those, while likely, were just guesses, they were in the bedroom of a safe house in Brussels after all. He was dismissed, and as he stood up, he realized just how much lighter he felt. He couldn’t quite explain it. 

He made his way back to the kitchen where Curt and Tati were perched together at the dining room table. Despite his attempt at a quiet entrance, their attention was grabbed the second he was in view. Owen offered up a half-hearted smile and made his way to the seat next to Tati.

“Hey, Owen, I’m sorry about earlier.” Curt sounded far too concerned for Owen’s liking, but he understood where it was coming from. Owen grabbed hand and looked him in the eyes with every ounce of adoration he had in him.

“No need, love. We’re okay. You did it.” His voice was still quieter than he intended, but Owen noticed that he sounded much more present, and for that he was thankful.

“Well, I don’t know where you got that from, because from all that Tati’s been telling me it sounds like you guys really saved my ass.”

“We did.” Tati said, earning a chuckle from the couple. Owen winced, but brushed off the pain. He was enjoying this moment, and nothing was going to take that from him. 

“And I am forever in your debt.” Curt laughed. “So, Owen, what’s the inventory? You okay?”

“Concussion, and they think some fractures in my hand and ribs. I’m okay. I never even asked you, though. I didn’t know if you were alive, Curt. I should be the one fussing.” The change in the energy of the room almost added whiplash to his list, but he knew someone was going to have to address the elephant in the room sooner or later.

“I’m alright, breathing hurts like hell and I’ve got some new stitches but hey, we’re getting out so that’s what matters, right?” Owen picked up on the wheeze in Curt’s voice, but decided against dwelling on it too much.

“I’m proud of you both. This was a hard mission for all of us, but for you two to run head-on into Chimera. You are shining examples of spies. I’ll leave you be, let you catch up.” Tati stood to leave, and they were alone.

They sat in silence for the moment as time passed around them. It felt like ages before Curt took the risk to break the silence. 

“I’m so sorry.” his voice cracked as he spoke.

“Curt…”

“No, I am. I dragged you into this. It’s my fault, and I’m sorry.” Owen hated seeing Curt like this, but he was powerless. He couldn’t exactly argue, it was always Curt’s hubris that made messes. He always needed to be the hero.

“Did you know? That it was Chimera?”

“Yeah… I did. I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“It’s for the best that you didn’t.”

“Why did you come?”

Owen was taken aback, not because he was shocked by the question, but because he didn’t quite know how to answer. There were so many reasons, fear, love, the deafening quiet eating at his mind. He took a pause to collect his thoughts.

“I couldn’t have sat in that house knowing you were in danger. I would have gone mad.”

“You stopped answering my calls.” The hurt that soaked Curt’s words stung like a dagger.

“I couldn’t… I couldn’t keep hearing your voice knowing you were so far away. I was hurt, Curt. I know it’s unfair to you for me to say that, but I was. When you left, I didn’t have anything anymore.” Owen knew he had no right to be angry. He was. Not at Curt, but at the system that he had grown so reliant on for his self-worth. The system that both saved and ruined Owen’s life.

“I’m sorry.” Curt whispered.

“I am too.”

The tense silence hung between them. They were together, so why did they still feel miles apart? Owen had been so sure that having Curt back home would make the world right again, but sitting there next to him he felt like he had seen and done too much. The world wasn’t right in the first place. They were both too exhausted to fight, though, so they sat relishing in the raw emotion settling in the air. Soon, things would have to get better. Right now, though, all they could do was wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry if this wasn't up to par with some of the other chapters, the beginning took me quite a while to slug through and I promise the next chapter will flow WAY better. Thank you for your patience with me, y'all.


	17. By the light of the moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chaos calms and the night has a lot of surprises.
> 
> [UPDATED 11/28/19 FOR REPTITION.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always for reading, and for your support on the last chapter, it means the world and I'm so glad you are all sticking with me! I officially have the rest of the fic planned out, and while we still have a long way to go, I'm so glad to have you all with me for the ride!

Before long, Curt found himself drifting into a restless sleep. There wasn’t anything else to say, and the exhaustion quickly won over his desire to stay awake with Owen. The ache in his bones calmed as he relaxed into the table, they were still wary of moving him, but he really didn’t mind. A dreamless sleep overtook him as he listened to Owen’s breathing. He wasn’t alone, and soon they would be home together, for good. 

When he awoke, Owen was no longer beside him. 

He wasn’t exactly surprised, but the lack of a familiar face disappointed him. He had enjoyed being around people he trusted, despite the circumstances. He shifted, ignoring the pain still coursing through his muscles. He had no indication as to what time it was, there were no windows visible from his spot in the kitchen, but the silence that had fallen over the house was enough of an indication that everyone else was asleep. Curt was grateful for the newfound clarity in his mind, now that the chaos of the mission had calmed he was finally able to go over it in his head. He didn’t remember much, but Tati and Cynthia had told him enough for him to start compiling what had happened.

From what he remembered, he and Carter had gone to stake out the factory at 0800, Carter ran in around 0900. He followed, and they were in by 0910. Carter must have been dead by nine-thirty. It all moved so fast. Curt began to sweat as his mind lingered on Carter. It was Curt’s plan that got him killed. This whole mess was fueled by him breaking even, having killed more bad guys than good, and yet here he was. He supposed that the bomb made quick work of evening the numbers, but the sinking feeling that was taking control of him made him wonder if he would ever truly feel clean.

“Focus.” Curt whispered to himself.

Carter was dead by 0930. He first encountered Cobb around 01000. Scratch that, his last vivid memory was at 01000. 

Curt took a deep breath, grounding himself. He needed to remember. He needed to make sense of this. 

Tatianna and her team arrived at 17:36. Owen encountered Cobb an hour later. Curt made his bomb shortly after. Cobb was dead by 20:42. They were gone by 21:50. 

Something clicked as the timeline came together. Curt felt sick at the realization. Owen was with Cobb for hours. Owen may have killed Alexander Cobb, but in that lost time, who knows what had happened. Owen had been alone with the man who ruined his life for two hours. What had he done?

Owen turned on his bedside lamp. He couldn’t get any meaningful rest. He had one of the doctors checking up on him every few hours, and the splint on his hand was driving him mad. Despite this, he felt more at peace then he had since he first moved in with Curt, maybe since he first encountered Chimera. He was free. He stared at his hands, thinking back on what he’d done with them. The feeling of crunching bone under his fists. It had been entirely animal. Nothing about what he did to Cobb was human, then again, they hadn’t treated him like a human during the experiments, so what was he to do? 

Owen stood, moving to the bathroom. He finally had a moment to take himself in. He noted how unruly his hair had become, and took a moment to fix it a bit, to the best of his abilities. The dark circles under his eyes didn’t come as a shock, but needless to say, he was far from pleased at their unwelcome existence. He looked tired, frazzled. He had always hated showing cracks in the facade he had so carefully built over the years. It had been hard to keep up recently, there hadn’t been a point. He was alone, nobody was there to see him crumble. Taking the time to carefully wash his face and fuss with his hair some more, Owen relished in the feeling of catching glimpses in the mirror and recognizing the man in front of him. He knew he had a long way to go before he would be alright, but this was a step in the right direction. He knew he would have to face Curt in the morning. They’d make a plan and go on with their lives as best they could. Owen would still have to try and bury 32, but right now the monster inside him wasn’t hurting him much.

For the first time in a long time, Owen felt like he was more than his shattered past.

Curt’s head snapped up as a familiar figure stood in the doorway. Despite her small stature, Cynthia stood tall and imposing. He’d be lying if he said she didn’t scare the shit out of him, but he also would be lying if he pretended like he wasn’t glad she was here.

“What the fuck are you doing awake, Mega?” Cynthia spoke quietly as she approached the table, pulling out a chair and lighting a cigarette

“I slept for a while. What time is it anyway?”

“Quarter past four. I just wanted to check on you.” There was an unusual softness that Curt had never seen in his boss before. Hell, Cynthia had poisoned him on countless occasions, but she seemed so concerned. He figured it was because this time she didn’t have an antidote. 

“Jesus.” Curt said, stretching. “I’m alright Cynthia. How are the others?”

“Everyone’s patched up and sleeping. Listen, Mega, I owe you an apology.” Cynthia took a long drag of her cigarette. “I didn’t just make a mistake by sending you in with such an inexperienced agent. I probably shouldn’t have sent you in at all. This mission was risky and I knew the history.” Curt was taken aback. 

“There’s no need to apologize. I would have wanted to be the one. I needed to be the one. I’m sorry about Carter. He meant well.” Curt tapped the table idly as he tried to stop himself from analyzing all that went wrong. Every move and misstep that led to a young man’s death.

“I’m not done. I’m sorry I brought Owen into it. He had been through so much, and you two are some of the very few people I give a shit about. I thought it might be good for him, but god, the glimpse I caught of him when he walked in. I was wrong.” Curt had never seen Cynthia so emotional. He almost felt guilty. He had called her begging for a mission, and now she was here, away from her wife dealing with the aftermath.

“Cynthia, thank you. I trust you, and I know you did what you felt was right.”

“Yeah. If you ever speak of this again I’ll have your ass.” Cynthia stood to leave, stopping in the doorway. “Enjoy your retirement, Curt. I’m proud of what you’ve done.”

And with that, Curt was alone with his thoughts once more. What had Cynthia meant, she was wrong? He couldn’t worry for long before pride filled his chest, replacing his anxieties. He had done Cynthia proud. The more he thought about it, he was proud of himself too.

He really needed to give his mother a visit once this was all over.


	18. Tomorrow will come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tatiana has her doubts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! as always thank you for reading and commenting, it makes my day. This chapter is a tad different, but I had a fun time writing it! hope you enjoy!

It took longer than expected for Curt to be stable enough for transport. The entire team was on edge, just waiting to return to their homes, their lives, those they loved. Time passed slowly, and days felt like years. Soon, agents began to leave on their own accord. Before they knew it, only Curt, Cynthia, Owen, and Tati remained in the now deafeningly quiet safe house. It was fine by them, but the once chaotic space had taken on a jarring air of caution, as if the world was holding a breath around them.

The newfound hope in Owen’s eyes was what kept Curt going. The light in Curt’s eyes kept the hope in Owen’s. The tension still hung thick in the air, but there was an understanding that whatever may come after this moment, they could face together. 

Two weeks into their stay at the safehouse, Owen was writing when Tati came into the living room with her bags packed. She cleared her throat, and he looked up at her. She looked tired, and honestly, Owen didn’t blame her. Despite the high of a win and the knowledge that they had taken down one of the largest syndicates in the world, none of them had exactly had an easy go of it. She moved and sat down next to him on the couch, the silence was like an old friend by now. Tatiana tended to keep her conversations with Owen short. Not that she didn’t like him, they just had never been in a position to speak when they were both in their right minds. It seemed they only crossed paths when one of them was hurting or angry. That didn’t exactly make for pleasant conversation. The tension peaked as Owen closed his notebook, and shifted to face her.

“Are you leaving?” 

It wasn’t a question bred from malice, but Owen’s hushed, careful tone sent a pang through her heart. 

“I am. I have a family matter to attend to, I’m sorry.” If she was being honest, Tati wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for. She hadn’t lied, but the full truth went deeper. 

“No need to apologize, Tatiana.” Owen said, warmly. “I’m glad I caught you before you left, actually. I wanted to thank you for all you’ve done.”

“It’s all part of the job, Owen.”

“It’s not, you’ve saved my life twice now, and from the way Curt talks about you, I’m guessing this wasn’t the first time you’ve saved his either. That’s not just the job.” 

_ Right. _ Tati thought to herself.  _ He doesn’t remember. _

“We have to look out for each other in this line of work, Owen. Curt is my friend, and despite the, well, unfortunate circumstances we keep meeting in, I can tell you are a good man as well. I’m just glad I could be of assistance.” 

Though she tried, Tatiana knew she would never be able to separate the man she saw that mission from the man seated before her.

“Well, I won’t keep you. Thank you, again. For everything. I owe you my life. If you ever find yourself stateside, do give us a call? Hopefully, we can meet under more pleasant circumstances.” 

Owen gave her a nod, and Tatiana returned the gesture, grabbing her bags and making her way to the door. It swung shut behind her, and she leaned against the cold metal, relishing in the soft glow of moonlight. She flagged down the driver, and as the house quickly fell out of sight in the rearview mirror, she felt like she could breathe again. Everything had turned out, so why did she feel as though there was more to be done? The more she dwelled on it the more the conclusion she knew had been deep within her this whole time pounded itself into the forefront of her mind. After everything, she still didn’t trust Owen. She had seen him, in the throws of Chimera’s experiments.  _ That wasn’t him,  _ She tries to tell herself, _ Curt is safe with him.  _

She tried to focus on the ever-changing scenery zooming past the car window. It did nothing to hold her worry at bay. She knew things that Owen didn’t and that didn’t sit right with her. She had seen what Curt saw that day, the manic look in his eyes, Owen’s near robotic mannerisms. It’s odd now, having seen him look so human. The Owen she had known before this mission was nothing more than a violent husk of a man stripped of everything that made him truly alive. Every brush with him in the month leading to his extraction had been a brush with death itself. She had watched her best and only friend plead with the man he claimed he loved while he had a knife to his throat. Something within her made her question if Owen would do it again.

Cynthia had chastised her for that. Despite the woman’s tough facade, she really did care for her agents. She had tried to get Curt to abandon the mission countless times, but he refused. Cynthia trusted Curt, and for the first time, Tatiana found herself questioning Cynthia’s judgement. 

Curt would want her to try, to give Owen a chance, but she wasn’t sure she could. She had come so close to losing him to the monster within Owen that she was having a hard time convincing herself that it had all been something entirely separate from the vessel that darkness had lived in.

It wasn’t her place to question Curt’s trust, she knew that, but deep down Tatiana knew she couldn’t handle losing anyone else. She had lost enough. 


	19. The Man Behind The Curtain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's more than earned her trust, but is Cynthia ready to give it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit we've hit 20,000 words. This was meant to be a oneshot and I'm honestly so shook that we have come this far with this fic. Thank you all for reading, and I look forward to continuing on. Hope y'all enjoy!

Curt woke up to the smell of stale cigarette smoke in the air. He was getting used to it, being with Cynthia non-stop for the past two weeks. Owen had smoked for longer than Curt knew him, but at least he had the decency to go outside. And, well, not chain smoke not even three feet away from the man who had inhaled more unknown gas than he should have. Despite the thickness it gave the air, he never minded the smell. It reminded him of home in a way. Every place and everyone that had ever been a comfort to him carried the slight twinge of tobacco. He liked the taste of it on his lips when he broke from a kiss, or watching the last hints of the smoke drift into the nighttime air. It was a nasty habit, and he never indulged in it himself, but he’d be lying if it wasn’t a vice by proxy. 

Curt was shaken out of his thoughts by Cynthia clearing her throat. 

“So, Mega. What comes next for you?”

“I go back home, I guess.” Curt groaned, pushing himself up to look at her. 

“No, moron. I’m asking if I’m about to lose my best agent.”

Cynthia took another draw of her cigarette in the long silence that followed. Curt wasn’t sure what to say, because he really didn’t know. He had come to her begging for a mission, and look how that turned out. Would it be fair to Owen to keep doing this? Maybe more importantly, would it be fair to himself? Curt had been so hung up on this idea of breaking even, getting into the black that he never really took the chance to recognize what it was doing to him. The wins felt like baby steps, and the losses were apocalyptic. He’d never be able to wash his hands clean, not in this line of work. He had a choice to make, and judging by the ever impatient look growing on Cynthia’s face, he had to make it fast.

“I think so. I’m sorry, Cynthia.” His heart sank as he spoke the words aloud. Deep down he knew he was doing the right thing, so why did it feel so awful?

“Well then, I’m glad your last mission was a memorable one. As much bullshit you’ve put me through over the years, you did a lot of good, agent.” Cynthia’s voice cracked ever so slightly, but Curt decided to ignore it. He instead relished in the feeling of validation. He hated to admit that he needed it, but coming from Cynthia, it made all the horrible things he’d done seem worth something. Someone saw the good, and right now, that was enough. 

They spoke in hushed voices, telling stories of Mega’s tenure with the A.S.S, and working out the details of Curt’s resignation. A comfortable energy settled between them. They had worked together for years, and it was only recently that either one could say they actually knew the other. Curt knew she wasn’t lying when she said he was like a son to her, and he knew never to take her praise lightly, god knows it’s hard to earn. A lull in the conversation caused Cynthia to shift uncomfortably in her seat. She must have realized Curt took notice.

“Curt, you know I love Owen. I always have. He’s a sharp shot and a good guy. I’m not questioning your judgement here but-”

“What are you saying, Director Houston?” Curt snapped. She probably didn’t deserve it, but they had had this talk before, and Curt was far from willing to have it again.

“Will you let me fucking finish?”

“No, I know. And I do. If I thought that there was a chance… Cynthia, you need to back me up here.”

“Like hell I do. I know you, Curt. You would do anything for him, but you need to start looking out for yourself too. You’re so goddamn stubborn sometimes, and you’re lying to yourself if you try and say you wouldn’t do  _ anything _ to be with him.”

Curt knew she was right. The words left unsaid hung between them, stringing up the tension for them both to see. Cynthia had read the reports, and Curt had lived them. They knew what Owen had done and while it was a fresh wound to Cynthia, it was worth it for Curt. The pain, the anger, the confusion, it all led him to where he was now. He had a home to go back to, a lover to hold in his arms, and he felt safe. 

Cynthia was always able to see right through him. It was almost like she could hear his thoughts. Curt knew it was just because she was more like him than she would ever admit. Her posture softened, and as she reached to light up another Cigarette, she sighed. 

“Just promise me you’ll get some fucking self-preservation, alright? Look after him, but don’t let yourself fall by the wayside.”

The pressure was gone as fast as it had come, and the two relished in the mutual understanding. 

“I will. Thank you, for standing by me.”

“You’ve earned it, Mega.” Cynthia said, giving Curt a quick nod as she stood to leave.

Curt had never been more excited to go home.


	20. To New Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is time to leave the life they knew behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thank you all for your patience with me, it's finals season and you know what that means. Death. Once winter break starts we'll be pumping these chapters out but for now, enjoy this short lil chapter! Thank you so much for sticking with me!

Owen stood, illuminated by the glow coming from the living room. He leaned against the doorway smugly as he watched Curt gather up the last of his things.

“If you don’t mind, love, hurry it up. The flowers haven’t been watered in two weeks and I’m pretty sure I left a light on.”

“Oh, what, you  _ don’t  _ want to stay cooped up in this safehouse for another couple of days?” Curt asked, sarcasm dripping from his tone. He strode over to where Owen stood in the doorway, wrapping his arms around his neck.

“Just you, and me-”

“And Cynthia? As lovely as it has been, I’m looking forward to going home, getting some alone time with you for once.” Owen laughed. 

“Yeah, fair enough, I am too.” Curt said, moving to finish collecting his bags. 

They took in the kitchen one last time, arm in arm. The joking had eased the tension, but nothing felt better than knowing once they stepped out of that safe house and onto the plane that they were truly free. The only challenge they had to face was going back to their lives, picking up where the left off and praying they didn’t fall apart. That mountain seemed easy to climb, though. Soon all of the secrets, all of the deceit, all of the pain. It was going to be far behind them, and they were never looking back.

Curt looked at Owen and took a moment to enjoy the sight. He seemed so light, unburdened. He tried to push down the nagging feeling in his gut that had been there since his talk with Cynthia, and grasped Owen’s hand tighter. 

“You ready?”

“I have never been more ready in my life.”

The ride to the airport was beautiful. Curt had never realized how easy it was to ignore all the stunning architecture and flora when you’re focused on taking down militias. Spy work does a wonderful job of shoving violence and grit to the front of your mind. It was literally a breath of fresh air. They rounded a corner and Owen tensed. Curt turned to him, and outside the car window, he saw it. The remnants of what was once the factory. He averted his gaze. That wasn’t what today was about. Both men in the backseat seemed content to ignore the rubble. Cynthia, unfortunately, was not.

“Jesus Christ, Mega.” Cynthia gasped quietly. “Leave it to you to demolish a factory by accident, huh?” She chuckled. The silence in the rest of the vehicle rendered Cynthia uncharacteristically quiet. 

The rest of the ride was a blur of trees and cobblestone. The small airport was a welcome reprieve from the tension. The planes taking off above them meant they were one step closer to home. By the time they reached their gate, the smiles had returned to their faces, and Cynthia had to physically stop them from running before she got to say her goodbyes. She reached out, shaking Owen’s hand.

“Carvour, thank you for making the trip. If you need anything, you know how to reach me.”

“I will, ma’am. Thank you.”

“And Curt.”

Cynthia quickly pulled Curt into a hug, startling him for a moment before he returned the embrace.

“Remember what I said, thank you for all you’ve done.”

“I will Cynthia. Thank you.

And with the bittersweet farewells out of the way, Curt and Owen boarded the plane and set off for their second chance. They’d be damned if they weren’t going to do it right.


	21. settle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys go home, but what ghosts await them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> long time no see! I've been working on a script for my screenwriting class a lot recently, so this kinda got pushed to the backburner, but it's always so fun to write that you know I couldn't stay away. Thank you all for sticking with me and I hope you enjoy as always!

They sat hand in hand the entire flight home. Europe gave way to seas beneath them, and they relished in the freedom it brought. Curt had tried to sleep but to no avail. He gave up, gazing up to Owen, who was reading quietly beside him. 

“What now?” Curt whispered. 

Owen set down his book, turning to Curt. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, our lives have revolved around taking down this big bad for so long, and now that it’s gone I don’t know what to do.” Curt shifted in his seat. “I’m the happiest I’ve ever been but I still feel so lost. I don’t have the agency, I don’t have the missions-”

“But you have me.” Owen spoke softly, cracking an uneasy smile. “Curt, you get to write your story now. Not Cynthia, not Chimera, It’s you. You choose what you want to live for. We get to move on.” 

For the first time in a long time, Curt could feel the hope radiating from Owen. A smile crept across his face. He had been so caught up in himself that he hadn’t really thought about what all this meant for him. They both knew that it wasn’t all going to be alright right away, they had to work together to ever truly move on, but the fear, the paranoia, it had an end. There was finally a light at the end of the tunnel. He rested his head on Owen’s shoulder, nodding at the sentiment.

“We could get a dog.” Curt said, earning a smile from Owen. “An older one, give ‘em a good retirement, you know?”

“I’d like that.” 

Curt closed his eyes and gave in to sleep. 

He was woken up by the plane’s wheels touching the ground, and looked up at Owen, asleep in the same position they had been in hours before. Curt nudged him a bit, and he woke with a start.

“Hey, we’re here.” Curt smiled. Owen took a moment to orient himself, running a hand through his hair as he shook off the sleep that had settled in his bones.

Time caught up to them fast, and as they climbed off the plane and into the agency car the world seemed to flash around them. Before they knew it they were grabbing their bags and thanking the driver. They stood in front of the house for a long while, taking in the sight. The garden was still in good shape, and Curt did, in fact, see a light left on inside the house. He grabbed Owen’s hand and began to walk towards the door, but he wasn’t being followed. He turned around to find Owen with a furrowed brow, white-knuckle gripping his bag.

“Everything okay?” Curt said, approaching him cautiously.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry.” Owen shook his head. “I just. I left in a hurry when I got the call, I don’t know what state the house is in. It’s probably a huge mess.”

“You sure that’s it?”

“After you left I kept the notebook around. The one you wrote in after…” He trailed off, trying to collect his thoughts coherently. “I’d just rather not see it.”

“Okay, here’s the gameplan then. I’ll go and find it, and I’ll put it away while you give the garden that TLC you’ve been wanting to.” Curt pulled Owen into a hug, feeling him sigh in his arms. 

“Okay. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing. I’ll see you inside.” Curt said, breaking the embrace to grab their bags.

And there Owen stood. Alone, staring at the house he had suffocated in for weeks. It seemed much more menacing now, but he wasn’t sure why. It was the same house he had moved into with Curt months ago, and he was back home now. There was no explanation for the echo that still haunted him. He shook off the feeling and went to water the plants. For how long they’d been away, they were still in pretty good shape. The colours were a little duller than he remembered, but he figured some water should fix it right up. 

Curt reached their bedroom, and a chill ran down his spine. He set down their bags and moved to find the journal. If he was being honest, Curt had almost entirely forgotten about it. He had written it for Owen right after his rescue. He wouldn’t talk to anyone, so Curt brought him a journal filled with everything he needed to know. Every lie he had been fed, every memory he had cherished, who he was, who Curt was to him. It was this holy book of truths, and after they moved in together Curt hadn’t seen it once and now it was staring back at him from their bedroom floor. It was crumpled around the edges clearly discarded urgently, and yet Curt picked it up like it was a family heirloom. He glanced around him and realized that Owen hadn’t been kidding, the room was a disaster. Clothes strewn everywhere, a new scuff mark on the wall seemingly from where the notebook had hit it. The thing that got to Curt was the bed. His side was perfectly made, Owen’s wasn’t. He had been gone for weeks and Owen slept like he was expecting him home in the middle of the night. 

Curt shoved the notebook into a box in the closet and began to tidy up. His thoughts were racing and he was having a hard time catching up. He made Owen’s side of the bed, folded the clothes, and once the evidence of the chaos that had seemingly been unleashed while he was away was hidden, he sat on the bed. The house felt so big around him. It held secrets he would never know. The pain he caused when he left. Curt knew he’d never truly be able to understand it. 

Owen knocked on the doorframe, breaking Curt from his thoughts.

“Well against all odds, the garden lives.” He quipped, joining curt on the bed. “You cleaned up in here.”

“I did. I’m so glad to be home.” 

And Owen felt the same. No matter how he felt in the house, because in Curt’s arms he knew he was home.


	22. Darling, don't fear.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tatiana is back home, and the past follows her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I first off want to apologize for my absence. I have rewritten what was supposed to be this chapter four times and decided to try something else to get the juices flowing. I hope you all enjoy, and thank you for your patience! Your support means the world!

Tati didn’t sleep much the first night home. Or the second, or the third. 

On the fourth, she awoke with a start. She didn’t quite realize what memories seeing Owen again would unlock. He was a good man, and she did like him.

_Tatiana didn't know the man standing before her. He was unrecognizable from the Owen Curt had told her about. There was no grace in his stance, no sly smirk on his face. He was a shell. He was empty._

She liked him, but she didn’t trust him. She had read the file on Chimera more times than she could count, even before they found out about Owen’s involvement. She had put down men like him more than once. That type of torture, the type of manipulation they used, it wasn’t something most people could just break out of as quickly as he did.

_ “Owen, put that down.” _

_ Curt’s voice was cautious as he approached the other man. Though he tried, he couldn’t hide the trembling in his hands as they raised in surrender. Tatiana watched with bated breath as Curt approached, every step calculated to the inch. Owen’s eyes were frantic as he took in the agents he was up against. _

_ The hard part was knowing that despite the planning, despite their best efforts, he likely wouldn’t make it out alive. _

Tatiana sighed, flicking on her bedside lamp. 

She knew Owen wasn’t like most people.

_ Tatiana had seen this before. She had seen what Chimera did to people, how it changed them. She knew the chances were slim to nil. Curt didn’t seem to grasp that. Even standing behind him, she could see the tension in his shoulders, she could see him waver as he choked back tears. She knew he was doing his best to keep it together. He wanted nothing more than to bring Owen home, but she wasn’t sure if Owen was still in there. _

Tatiana made her way to the bathroom in her cramped studio apartment. She needed to try and wash away the remnants of the nightmare, but the visuals stuck with her much more vividly than she would have liked. 

_ He stood, a large machete gripped tightly in his fingers, his facade holding strong despite the numbers. _

_ Owen stood his ground, ready to do whatever it took. _

_ “Owen, please. You don’t have to do this.” Curt’s voice was hushed, hurt soaking his words. _

_ Owen seemed caught off guard as his stoic manner faded, and for just a split second Tati could see the confusion in his eyes. He had no idea what they were trying to do. He rebuilt the wall, and the emotion was gone as quickly as it came. His eyes were nearly lifeless. _

Stepping into the shower, she allowed her mind to drift back to the day they found him. She wasn’t sure what she was trying to find in the memory, but as the warm water ran over her she found herself recounting every last detail.

  
  


_ “You’ll be dead before I ever let you touch them.” Owen spat. _

_ “I won’t, okay? I won’t. Please, just let us help.” Curt stopped dead in his tracks. He glanced back at his backup. Tatiana had to look away. _

_ “Who sent you?” Owen was growing erratic, this could go south in the blink of an eye. The agents itched to step in, but they had instructions. This was a rescue. They needed Owen alive. Tati hoped luck was on their side. _

_ “We’re not going to hurt you.” _

_ “Answer the bloody question!” Owen moved quickly and had his knife pressed against Curt’s throat faster than Tati could react. There was no time to process as he was turned towards them, grabbing at Owen’s arm in a futile attempt to wrestle the knife away. _

_ Tati drew her gun, approaching slowly. She had to fight hard against the instinct to pull the trigger. She had seen what Owen was capable of, she knew how deadly he was. Now, it was her best friend at the end of his blade and she wasn’t going to let that stand. _

_ “We’re with the American secret service, we’re here to help, just drop the weapon.” Tatiana prided herself on her ability to remain calm in situations like these, and she prayed she was doing enough to hide how violently her heart was pounding in her chest. _

_ Owen pressed the knife into Curt’s throat, just enough so that Curt could feel the cold metal threatening to slice him open at any second, but gently enough so as to not hurt him. She could see him trying to piece things together, and failing miserably. Owen was growing frustrated quickly, and that spelled bad news. _

_ “Help? Is that what you think you’re doing?” Owen scoffed. “You’re insane. You’re all puppets, executing orders for your government. You have killed my friends, my colleagues, and now you’re after my family. Is that what you monsters call helping?” His voice cracked as he spoke, despite his outward appearance remaining almost robotic. _

_ “We’re not after your family Owen. Your family lives on the other side of the continent. They’re all safe.” Curt gasped as Owen dug the tip of the machete into his neck, ever so slightly. Tatiana moved in closer, preparing to pull the trigger. _

_ “You think you’re so bloody clever, playing these mind games but you have no idea who I am and what I will do to you if you keep trying.” He twisted the point of the blade, making Curt wince as a trail of blood began to trickle down his neck. “My organization will destroy you. They will destroy me if I let you go.” _

_ It was then that Tatiana noticed two figures approaching from the depths of the warehouse. As they came into view, she noticed that they were armed. Heavily. Large automatics slung across their chests, slowly raising as they approached the group. _

_ “32. Stand down.” The woman spoke firmly, and the colour drained from Owen’s face. He stayed perfectly still as they approached. Tatiana stood frozen as she watched. The air in the room fell stagnant. _

_ “You’re being messy again, 32.” Owen lowered his blade, and Tatiana was shocked into action. Two shots rang out, echoing off the walls of the warehouse. She looked down and saw the two Chimera operatives on the ground, and she moved to grab Curt. Owen dropped at the sound of the gunshots and was left on all fours on the ground, his eyes screwed shut. _

_ Time seemed to slow as they all remained still, both sides waiting for the other to make their move. _

_ It was Curt who broke the tense silence. _

_ He rushed towards Owen, dropping to the floor and clutching him to his chest desperately. Tears began to fall. Tati wasn’t sure where to go from here. She kept her weapon drawn and closed in on the two men. Owen’s eyes shot open and he began to fight back against the sudden contact, pushing with all he had against Curt. Curt who hadn’t cried once through this entire mission. Curt who was just now letting his guard down. _

_ Tatiana stood and watched, at a loss for the first time in her career. _

_ Owen tired himself out fairly quickly, succumbing to Curt’s grasp. He sat there on the cement and stared at nothing for what seemed like hours as Curt sobbed into his shoulder. He was grasping at Owen impossibly tight, as if he would disappear if he loosened his grip for even a moment. Tatiana waved to Susan, signalling him to update Cynthia as she placed a hand on Curt’s back. _

_ “It’s okay, it’s okay. We’re here, you don’t have to be scared anymore.” Curt whispered between heaving breaths. “Please, I don’t know what they told you but you - fuck - I need you to trust me.” _

_ “Curt, we need to move.” _

_ “Just wait!” He barked, turning his attention back to the man sitting resigned in his arms. “Don’t shut me out, I know you’re scared. God, Owen, please. Let us help.” _

Tatiana tried to shake the last of the memory out of her mind as she stepped out of the shower. She dried herself off and trudged back to her bed with no hope that she would be able to get back to sleep. 

She figured it was for the better that Owen didn’t remember that day.


	23. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Curt and Owen build on their found family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok let me start with apologizing for the literal 5 month hiatus. y'all know what's been going on lmao
> 
> We're back now, and I have the next 9 chapters planned and ideas for some stuff past that! I'm not sure how frequent my uploads will be with my writing for school that I'm working on for next semester, but I promise it won't be another 5 month wait. 
> 
> Thank you guys for reading, thank you for sticking with me. I hope what's to come was worth the wait.

The blaring of his alarm clock was the sweetest sound Curt had heard in weeks. He shifted with a yawn, taking in the sight of Owen sleeping soundly beside him. He had dreamed of this view ever since he left. Waking up to a cold, empty bed, he decided, was not his favourite sensation. He had spent every night that Owen was with Chimera waiting for this view to return. 

Twice. He had almost lost moments like these forever not once, but twice. The thought made his palms sweat. He reached out to Owen as his breath hitched, snaking his arms around his waist. Owen stirred, returning the embrace.

“Hey, everything okay?” he whispered.

“Yeah” Curt sighed “I’m just glad to be home again. With you.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Owen ran his hand down Curt’s back, he hoped it was reassuring, but the sound of Curt’s deep breathing was enough to cloud his sleep hazed mind and he sighed, succumbing to sleep once more. They laid like that as morning drifted into the afternoon, relishing in the safety of each other's arms and the warm feeling that comes with being drenched in sunlight until the sun was too high to ignore any longer. Owen shifted, stretching his arms. He was  _ exhausted. _ The last bit of adrenaline had officially worn off, and the scratchy carpet under his feet was almost enough to drive him back to the comfort of his and Curt’s bed. Not quite enough, but almost.

“Alright, it’s almost two Curt, we should get up.” Owen said, nudging Curt’s shoulders. He whines before turning over to face Owen.

“Yeah, but the day’s a wash already. May as well just… stay here? Right?” 

Owen had always been weak when it came to Curt. That look in his eyes could get him to do anything. He would never admit it, but from that first mission together, he knew he was absolutely, undoubtedly fucked. Over time, he realized that that may not necessarily be a bad thing. He’s always trusted Curt, maybe even when he hadn’t earned it, but Owen couldn’t help himself. Something about the suave confidence and the honesty in the heart of the man who wore it. Owen knew from day one, he would never mean to hurt him. 

His gaze was soft, the shadow of the blinds sending stripes of light dancing gently across his face. Owen sighed to himself.

God, that look. 

“Fine.”

Curt flashed a warm smile as Owen crawled back into his arms. The sun warmed them and they felt truly whole.

  
  


The next day, the pair found themselves standing in front of an animal shelter. The second Curt had brought up the idea of getting a dog, the decision was as good as made in Owen’s mind. They stepped through the door, Curt practically running into the building before them. They were greeted by a young woman standing at the desk, a smile on her face as they walked in.

“Hey there! What can I help you guys with today?” She said, cheerily.

“We’re looking to adopt.” Owen said, putting his arm around Curt’s shoulders with a smile. The building was bright and colourful, with illustrations of small happy dogs, cats, and rabbits lining the walls. Curt was pretty sure this was what heaven looked like, and Owen laughed, reading that sentiment on his face. As the woman approached them, Curt made out the name on her name tag to read “Maggie.” She approached them, seemingly just as excited as Curt.

“For sure! Follow me, I’ll introduce you to all our little friends here!”

They walked through the halls of the shelter, following the camp-counsellor-esque woman as she introduced them to the animals. Mostly cats at first, which Owen enjoyed, but Curt had his heart set on a dog, and he wasn’t about to put up a fight when he was just as excited. They stopped at one particular scraggly looking mutt and Curt stopped dead in his tracks, the woman smiling at his excitement.

“This here is Cricket. Been here a long time, but he’s an absolute sweetheart, and he’s really spry for his age!” She beamed.

“Can we say hi?” Curt asked, sounding like a child who just walked past a puppy on the street.

“Of course!”

She unlatched the gate, and the dog’s tail began wagging against the floor. Curt melted at the sight, and Owen knew that this was it. Cricket was coming home with them. 

Cricket was scraggly, black and grey fur falling haphazardly all around him. _ Maggie wasn’t kidding when she said he was spry _ , Owen thought as the dog jumped up on Curt, damn near taking him down in the process. Yup. This was their dog.

They took a few minutes to fill out the paperwork, and as soon as they were finished up, Maggie was waving to them through the door as Cricket walked patiently beside them, all leashed up and ready to go. He seemed naturally nervous as they all loaded into their car. 

Owen hadn’t thought about it, but the shelter had been Cricket’s home for most of his life. His heart ached for him. He never knew the great wide world beyond the play yard of the shelter. He knew how that felt, to think something is as big as the world gets. Owen patted between Cricket’s ears. Owen also knew how great things beyond what you believe are as wide as the world is. He knows just how much love can change.

Curt smiled at Owen in the passenger seat, reaching back quietly petting Cricket. His heart warmed at the sight. He pulled out of the shelter parking lot, and as they made their way to the pet store to grab supplies, it seemed that all three of them knew that this little family was well on their way to healing, together.

The car slowed to a stop in front of their house, the flowers beaming colour, and Owen made note of his heart rate, not because it quickened, but because it remained the same. He was fine, Curt was fine, Cricket was fine. He smiled. Curt got out of the car first, hooking Cricket to his leash and beginning the walk, leash in one hand, dog food in the other. Owen took in the sight for a moment before grabbing the remaining bags and following suit.

When they were finally all set up in the house, the two looked over their work approvingly, Cricket’s bed sitting in the corner of their bedroom, food bowl and toys set up in the living area. Cricket sat by the couch, still cautious of his surroundings, but seemingly happy nonetheless. 

Curt blinked away the mist in his eyes, realizing that for the first time in his life, he’s finally got a whole, happy family. 


	24. Love like this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Curt and Owen settle into their new life, one that Ms. Mega has been sorely left out of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gone for 5 months then 2 chapters in a row oops
> 
> as always, thank you all for reading, and thanks for sticking with me during the unintentional hiatus, I'm forever grateful.
> 
> "I've only known Cricket for a day and a half but if anything happened to him I would kill everyone in this room and then myself.'
> 
> like honestly don't ever worry I will never hurt Cricket and that's a guarantee

Curt woke up to Cricket licking his hand and a smile on his face. The scruffy old dog wagged his tail as Curt swung his legs over the bed, leaning down to pet him. Owen lightly stirred beside him, not quite waking. Moving as quietly as possible, Curt got dressed, grabbed Cricket’s leash and made his way out the front door after scribbling out a quick note -  _ went for a run, we’ll be back soon! -C+C _ . 

The early morning air was fresh and dewy as it hit his lungs, the shade from the trees a welcomed sensation as the sun crested over the horizon, taking its place among the light cloud cover. Cricket walked right at his side as they made their way through the neighbourhood. They hadn’t been given much information on the dog’s past, likely because the shelter didn’t know themselves, but Curt suspected with his quick adjustment and skittish nature that his wasn’t the first family Cricket had been a part of. The thought of anyone giving this dog up made his heart sink, his tail hadn’t stopped all morning, he was excited to get out and see the world, he was such a good dog. Curt was already head over heels in love with him after just a day. He was jolted out of his own head by Cricket giving a tug on the leash, not going after anything, just signaling Curt to up the pace, so he did.

Owen stretched out his arms, the sun shining in his eyes. He winced as he reached out to Curt’s side of the bed only to find it empty. His heart hammered against his chest, and he quickly realized that old habits do in fact die hard. In the brief moment before his feet hit the floor, he was assaulted by the thought that maybe Curt hadn’t come home, maybe it had all been a twisted dream. The thought was stopped in its tracks when Owen spotted Cricket’s bed sitting in the corner of their shared room. He sighed, scrubbing a weary hand over his face. He figured it would be some time before he got used to waking up alone, on the rare occasion that it happens. He shook the anxiety off as best he could before getting up to put on a pot of coffee. 

He stepped into the kitchen, immediately greeted by the note Curt had left. His messy handwriting that may as well have been code warmed Owen’s heart, his writing is almost illegible, but the sight of the note brings him back to love letters scrawled on bar napkins, tucked away where nobody could find them, his words filling a void in his heart he hadn’t noticed until it was gone. Curt was always smarter than people gave him credit for. It was one of the many things he loved about him from the beginning. Yeah, Curt was an idiot. A lot of the time. But behind that, he knew that Curt was articulate, cunning, and be damned if he didn’t have a way with words. The smell of fresh coffee filled the air, and the last of the morning’s nerves wore off. Owen made it to the porch door when the phone started ringing, he picked up the receiver only to be greeted by overexcited screeching on the other end. That was Ms. Mega for you though.

“Curt! Would it kill you to call me every once in a while? I’ve been worrying myself sick over here honey! I’m getting old, you know!”

Owen took a deep breath, he was not awake enough to have this conversation. Ms. Mega rambled on as Owen took a long swig of his coffee.

“Ah, sorry Maggie, It’s not Curt, he’s just out on a run, this is Owen.”

“Oh! Sorry sweetheart, you didn’t deserve that tongue lashing. You know how Curt is, I haven’t heard from him in weeks! How have you two been? Everything going well for you two little lovebirds?”

Owen would be lying if he tried to convince himself that hearing Curt’s mom refer to them as a unit so affectionately didn’t melt his heart a bit. She had taken it pretty hard when Curt had come out, he didn’t entirely blame her. She had always had her heart set on planning a big wedding, not to mention the grandkids she still asked them about each time she called. It had taken time, but she came around.

“We’re quite well Maggie, we actually adopted a dog yesterday, you should come by and meet him sometime!”

“Oh sweetheart, I would love that. I’ll see when I can make it up there, I’ve been so busy with the community centre recently but I’d be a pretty terrible mother if I didn’t have time for you two.”

Owen loved her, he truly did. After Chimera, contact with his own family had been scarce at best. He ran off on them for months, and he found out from his sister that his parents weren’t ready to welcome him back quite yet. Word had spread when MI6 had presumed him dead, he was top of the agency, he knew that it was coming during his recovery. His parents would have to face their dead son. He hadn’t had to face them after all, though. No explanation, just unwelcome in the blink of an eye. He had struggled deeply to understand, but the deeper he dug the more he reasoned that he may not want to know after all.

“Owen?” He made a noise prompting her to continue as he took another sip from his mug. “Do you know why Curt hasn’t called? It’s been months, and I truly was worrying myself towards an early grave.”

“Uh… right… something came up with work so he was traveling for a while… I heard him on the phone to you before he left, did he not tell you?”

“You know him, always the dramatic type. He didn’t give me any details. I know how busy your work can get, so I left it be but something in the back of my mind was telling me that something was wrong. If I’m honest I was close to coming over there myself.”

Owen thought back to the time before he had gone to Brussels himself. It wasn’t like him to ignore phone calls, and he would have loved to hear from Maggie. A chill ran up his spine at the thought of him lying in bed, Maggie on the other end of the phone presuming the worst. A pit of guilt opened up in his stomach.

Just as Owen was formulating his reply, Curt opened the door, Cricket in hand. Owen immediately said his goodbyes to Maggie, promising that when she decided to come up that they would be waiting with open arms before passing the phone to Curt and taking Cricket’s leash. Curt tilted his head before taking the phone. Owen smiled at him, then disappeared to feed Cricket. 

“Curtis? Is that you?”

“Oh, hey Ma! How are you?” Curt hoped his wince didn’t carry in his voice. Through all of this he had forgotten to call his mother.

“Well I’d be a lot better if I had heard from you! It’s been months, Curtis,  _ months _ .”

“I know Ma, I’m sorry, I should have called when I landed, it got really busy and I just didn’t have time.” The second of silence on the other end of the line let Curt know loud and clear that this was, in fact, the wrong answer.

“Curt. Honey. I changed your diapers, I raised you  _ alone _ since you were five. You can make time. You promised me you were going to retire from field work anyways, why the hell were you travelling anyways?”

“It’s a long story, I’m sorry. Owen said you were thinking of coming up here? I promise, when you do I’ll tell you the full story.”

“Curtis, I have time now. It’s been so long since I’ve heard your voice, just humour me here.”

Owen heard Curt sigh from the kitchen. He felt bad for springing his mother on him without so much as a good morning, but there was no way that Owen could tell the story that would leave Curt looking good in his mother’s eyes. Better for him to run his own trial. Owen heard Curt start to explain himself, and took the moment to bring Cricket out on the porch. As much as he hated to admit it, he wasn’t ready to hear how Curt saw the ordeal. He would undoubtedly paint it as necessary work, and he wouldn’t be wrong. Owen has never felt lighter in his life than he does now that Chimera is gone for good. As true as that was, Curt had almost died, he still had coughing fits, he was still obviously in pain, and so was Owen. They had gone into a warzone with no real plan, no expectations, and no guarantee that they would win. He had so willingly given up everything they had built. Sure, it all worked out in the end, but the thought of how easily it could have -and nearly did- go south made his blood run cold as ice.

Cricket hopped up on the porch swing next to Owen, bravely testing the waters for the first time. Owen looked down and smiled as Cricket laid his head across his lap. Everything did work out. Curt was smart, he knew the risks, and the gamble paid off. Owen ran his hand through Cricket’s wiry fur. The dog’s tail beat loudly against the cushion of the swing. Owen let his occupied mind wander and eventually empty. He truly had never felt more free. Sure, he had by no means recovered from his past, but that was okay, because he knew he would get there, and he wouldn’t be alone.

Curt swung open the door with a loud sigh, plopping down on the swing next to Owen, doing his best not to disturb their now sleeping pup while maintaining his usual drama. 

“Good morning, Love. Sorry to sic your mother on you that early.” Owen tried to sound apologetic, but the lack of grace in Curt’s entrance left him stifling a chuckle.

“Don’t worry about it, she needed to hear it from me. Luckily once she stopped screaming at me for being such a ‘glutton for danger’” Curt accentuated with heavy air quotes, “she wrapped things up pretty quick. Told us to send pictures of Cricket.”

They sat in silence for a moment. The sun had long since staked its claim over the sky, lighting up the garden, allowing the striking colours to shine in full.

Owen grabbed Curt’s hand.

“She was really glad to hear from you. You really must call her more, Curt.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Curt groaned. “She was worried about you too, Owen.” A grin replaced exasperation on Curt’s face. “She called you her son-in-law, it's the first time she’s done that.” 

Owen chuckled. “She does know we’re not married, right?”

“She said you’ve earned it when I tried to tell her. You know that the second we can, we will, right? And before you say anything, we cannot elope. I think my mom would kill me herself.”

Owen knew, and the warmth in his heart spread at the thought. The world would catch up one day, and Owen trusted Maggie to make it an event big enough to stop the world. He had never been the type for fanfare, but love like this deserved to be celebrated. 

Owen pulled Curt’s face close to his, smiling before pulling him into a kiss. Curt returned it without hesitation, his arm wrapping around Owen’s waist, pulling him even closer.

Yes, for love like this he could stand the fanfare.


	25. the mind decieves.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cynthia deals with the fall out of losing an agent.
> 
> Tati can't clear her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Tati and Cynthia time! I promise you I haven't forgotten barb, I have plans for her I assure you! thanks as always for reading, you guys rock, hope you enjoy <3

Cynthia’s phone hadn’t stopped ringing since she got back to the office. Day in and day out, she was fielding report paperwork, answering the same questions over and over again, and frankly, she was getting sick and fucking tired of it. The phone rang, and she ignored it. She lit a cigarette, and it rang again. This was above her paygrade. The higher-ups were giving her hell for the mission going awry, why bring an agent with such personal connections to a case on board? Whatever happened to agents needing to be of clear mind and sound logic to take on a case?

Cynthia knew why. She had her reasons and hell would freeze over before she had to explain herself to anyone. She was the boss around here, and whatever went wrong or went right was under  _ her  _ jurisdiction. Cynthia knew she made the right call, and that was all she would entertain.

The phone began ringing once more, and once more, Cynthia ignored it. 

She didn’t have anything else to say. If she lost her job over this, so be it. She just led a mission that took down the A.S.S’s biggest bad wolf, and she could rest easy at night knowing she made the world better. 

Well, she made the world at large better. She took another draw of her cigarette, hoping that the burning in her lungs would provide enough comfort for the phone call she now had to make. Despite the mission being a success, she still had to tell Agent Carter’s family that their son wouldn’t be coming home. It was her least favourite part of the job. It’s not like it was a rare occurrence, the job was dangerous, and agents dropped like flies more often than she would like to say, but speaking with the families always reminded her of the human aspect of the agency. Maybe it’s a fault to rely on human efforts so much. They make mistakes, they have off days, they act on emotion. Then again, so does she.

She picked up the phone and dialled the Carters.

  
  


Tatianna looked down at the gun in her hand as she cleaned it. Her collection had grown impressively in the last few years. It didn’t make her feel any safer than she would be unarmed. No, Tatianna wasn’t afraid of any physical threat. She knew she was strong enough to hold her own. She kept herself at an arm’s distance from everyone she’s ever known, never getting close enough to drag them down with her. She’s been down that road before, and it almost cost her everything. 

She was afraid of the things she couldn’t fight off with manpower. 

Her grief-stricken family’s pleas for her to come home. Lovers that she could never give her heart to. The sense of mourning she staved off every day for the life she could have had, the people she should have held closer, the blood staining her forever. 

The thought of more red staining her ledger was too much to bear. She was ready to do whatever it took to prevent it.

  
  


Cynthia sighed as she hung up the phone. His mother had been silent the whole call. That was almost worse than the sobbing she usually heard in these calls. The stunned silence, her son off on his own for the first time gone before he got a chance to visit again, the shock wouldn’t break the whole time. There was a point where Cynthia thought she had hung up, but a choked breath quickly let her know just how wrong she was. 

She didn’t have much time to process before the phone started ringing once more.

“What the fuck do you want?” She snapped.

“Ms. Houston, I have a question for you.” Tatianna’s voice shocked Cynthia, she sighed. As much as she hated to admit it, the friendly voice was welcome, she needed something normal. She needed to ignore the proxy grief she was trying desperately to shove below the surface.

“What is it, Slozhno?” 

“I do not often find myself concerned for Mega. I of all people understand how capable he is.”

“You’re worried about Owen.”

“Yes.” 

Cynthia groaned into the receiver. She debated hanging up, she had been assured that Curt was going to look out for himself, and against her better judgement, she knew to trust him. 

“Tatianna, you have to know what I’m going to say right now. You’re not stupid.”

“Yes, I know. It’s out of your hands and I should trust him. Cynthia, you didn’t see what I saw.”

_ Her ears rang as her partner dropped to the ground. She ducked for cover, a bullet whizzing by her ear as she did. _

“Cynthia, you have to trust me when I say something isn’t right here!”

“Like hell I do! I wasted years,  _ years,  _ worrying about Mega. He blinds himself to the truth, and he’s soft. I know he’s fucking soft! That goes to show that when I say I trust him, I have a goddamn reason for-”

“Director Houston, all due respect but don’t you think it’s even the slightest bit suspicious how quickly Carvour recovered?” The interruption stunned Cynthia into silence.

_ The fucker had the audacity to laugh as he approached the body of the fallen agent. It was humourless. Cold. Synthetic. A comm device crackled to life. “One down, one left to go. Best start a timer, I just may beat my record.” Tati cocked her gun and- _

“First things first, don’t you dare interrupt me again. I can make your life hell agent, you know that.”

“Yes ma’am. I apologize.”

“Why would it be suspicious.” 

_ “Don’t get cocky 32, we don’t have time for this.” The man stood still at the woman’s voice, spine straightening robotically. He turned his head in Tatianna’s direction and she froze. They stayed there for a few tense seconds before Tatianna aimed her pistol and fired. She missed. The man’s head shot up, his eyes empty and wide, almost as if he were catching the first glimpse of what he’d done. The comm crackles to life once more, and a hushed voice that she couldn’t quite make out rang through the trees. The second it had finished, the sound of bullets crashed out into the night once more, and Tati ran.  _

“I encountered Owen time and time again, and only once did he look like the man I met in Brussels. I have been trained my whole life to follow my intuition, and something isn’t right. He was fully lucid and aware within a week and a half, the others took months if they recovered at all.”

“Agent Carvour was top of his ranks, if it wasn’t pure luck, he had been trained to get a hold of his mind.”

“Cynthia, every other operative we rescued remembered everything. They know what they did, they recalled it to us, that’s what led us to Owen in the first place. We talked before I flew out and he doesn’t remember any of it.”

Cynthia searched every corner of her mind, hoping to find some disproving evidence for what she suspected Tati was insinuating but came up devastatingly empty-handed.

“And if you’re right? What are you asking me to do?”

“Just… please, reach out if there’s any suspicion. That’s all I ask of you.”

Cynthia hung up. She kicked herself for not thinking of it sooner. Before she knew what she was doing, she heard the rings and was waiting for Curt to pick up.

She couldn’t take another loss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry


End file.
